Demeter At Eleusis
by frustratedstudent
Summary: Fantine decides to raise her daughter in Montreuil-sur-mer instead of leaving her at Montfermeil. In which a seemingly foolish decision changes the fortunes of several women, and those unfortunate enough to be entangled with them.
1. Chapter 1

_A/N: Another epic begins! I began working on this idea years ago in the unfinished fic "Her Mother's Daughter", but I decided to rework and finish the tale. _

_The basic premise: What if Fantine chose to raise Cosette herself, instead of asking the Thenardiers to take her in?_

_DISCLAIMER: I do not own Victor Hugo's characters, or anything that was originally in the novel "Les Miserables". Nor do I own any of the historical personages who make necessary cameos. However I do own some of the minor original characters who appear here, such as some revolutionaries, grisettes, and people on the street. No profit is intended in the writing of this historical-literary experiment._

_This fic will involve a close but more or less platonic relationship with Jean Valjean and Fantine, as well as Marius/Cosette, Joly/Musichetta/Bossuet, and Enjolras/Eponine. _

**DEMETER AT ELEUSIS**

**Chapter 1: A Woman Standing Instead of Sitting**

The woman was standing, and not sitting near the door of the "Seargent of Waterloo". Not only did she serve to make the inn a little less inconspicuous, but her attitude was a warning in itself even for an inexperienced traveler like Fantine. For a moment Fantine stood and watched, unseen by the colossus and her two little girls, unsure whether to go her own way or take a few more moments to rest. The tender picture of a mother tending to a pair of little ones on a swing would have been reassuring, were it not made a little unsettling and grotesque by the fact that the swing was made of a rusty iron chain, and that the mother was in bearing more of a tigress than a Madonna. However the weight of the carpetbag on Fantine's back as well as that of the dozing little girl in her arms soon won out, and so she took a brave step forward. She took a deep breath before standing up straight and saying by way of greeting, "You have two beautiful children there, Madame."

The redheaded woman looked up abruptly from where she'd been watching her daughters on their makeshift swing. "Thank you, Mademoiselle." She stopped as if taking stock of this blonde, grave newcomer and her precious charge. "Why don't you sit down for a moment here?' she asked, gesturing to a bench.

"Thank you, Madame," Fantine said, eagerly taking the seat offered to her before setting down the carpetbag. As hospitable as this matron seemed, Fantine did not dare get too close, if only for the fact that her hostess' arms were larger than cudgels and her frame stouter than a wagon._ 'There's a woman who doesn't need to fear prowlers,' _she couldn't help thinking as she watched this woman as well as the two pretty children in the swing.

The matron looked keenly at Fantine. "My name is Madame Thenardier. We keep this inn."

"Yes, I see," Fantine said. "I'm Fantine. Only Fantine, there's no other name to it."

"Well then," Madame Thenardier said gruffly. "Where are you headed to?"

"My hometown," Fantine replied. She glanced down at her daughter, who was still fast asleep; how long would it be till she would have to tell her child some version of this story? "I had work in Paris till not too long ago. That failed, and with my husband just dead, what could I do? I left this morning" she said to Mme. Thenardier.

The matron sniffed. "You mean to walk all the way?"

"Naturally, no. I was able to meet the coach headed for Villemomble. From there I walked, and now I'm here," Fantine replied. She stroked her daughter's dark hair affectionately and kissed her cheek. "I tried to let my little girl walk some of the way, but you can see that she is so young and could not manage it so far."

The plump little girl in Fantine's arms stirred and opened her eyes, which were an alluring shade of deep blue. For a moment she yawned drowsily before looking at her mother and giggling. She squirmed her way out of Fantine's grip and toddled over to the two other little girls in the swing. She gave them an impish smile by way of greeting, which was returned by a quizzical but gay look from the older girl and a rather more cautious one from the younger.

Mme. Thenardier lumbered over to her daughters and undid the large ugly scarf that held them to the iron chain. "Play together all three of you," she said, helping them to the ground.

Fantine watched this tender scene cautiously, marvelling silently at the contrast of the children and this big, rude plaything. While she could not say that her childhood had been much better; after all she had been an urchin, there was still something decidedly unsettling about this disparity. She smiled when she saw her own child digging a hole in the ground, using both a piece of her wood and her fingertips. '_Never mind the dress for now,' _she thought, seeing how flecks of dirt were now all over the fine lace trimming and ribbons of her daughter's dress.

Mme. Thenardier observed her own children for a little longer before looking to Fantine again. "What is your daughter's name?"

"Cosette," Fantine replied. '_The name Euphrasie is too fine for most days,' _she reminded herself. It had been the name of the first woman who'd taken her in for a brief spell back in Montreuil-sur-mer. That had been long ago, and Fantine knew better than to hope that this benefactor would still be around. She looked to Mme. Thenardier. "What about your two daughters?"

"This one is Eponine, and the second is Azelma," Mme. Thenardier said, gesturing first to the elder, who was a rosy blonde, and then the younger, whose hair was a mousy shade of brown. "How old is yours?"

It took Fantine a moment to work out the months. "Almost three."

"The same age as my eldest," Mme. Thenardier said. She let out a rather simpering sigh at the sight of the three girls crouched together, watching a worm emerging from the ground. "Look at those children! One would almost swear they were sisters!"

Fantine was entranced at this sight, and for a moment some inexplicable happiness welled up in her person. Before she could voice this out, a harsh voice cut through the idyll. "Wife! Who is there?" a man's voice called from within the house.

"That is my husband," the Thenardier woman told Fantine. "Only a passerby," she called to her spouse.

"Well leave her be for a minute, there is something I need to speak with you about," the master of the house barked.

"I'll watch them for a minute," Fantine said impetuously, seeing the worried gaze that Mme. Thenardier threw towards the girls.

Mme. Thenardier nodded quickly. "He'd better not keep me long," she said under her breath before marching into the house to speak to her husband.

For a moment Fantine's eyes lingered on the three girls, making sure that they were in no danger of coming to grief thanks to something in the dirt or the looming presence of the wagon nearby. However the increasingly raised voices from within the inn soon drew her attention and it was not long till she gave in to her usual imprudence and pressed her ear to the keyhole.

A chair scraped against the floor and creaked dangerously as if someone had sat down heavily. "What am I supposed to do then? You spend too much on bread when you know the bailiff is on his way—" M. Thenardier groused.

"The old gent wouldn't leave till he had his breakfast," his wife said, her voice both ingratiating but just on the edge of seething. "I know you want to run a good business, my man, and we cannot have our guests too angry."

"It would be easier if the brats didn't have to eat so much! If only children did not have to grow!" Thenardier said. "Never mind, we'll have to find a way to make up the fifty francs by tomorrow morning is that traveller alone?"

Fantine drew back at this mention of money; she had already perfected the art of recognizing a debt from the mere mention of it. '_How will they do it, if no one else passes here?' _she wondered. She felt a stab of pity on seeing the two little girls playing with Cosette; these ones were too young to know of their parents' troubles. She made sure to situate herself a respectable distance from the doorway before Mme. Thenardier returned, now completely red in the face.

"My husband wishes to know if you will be taking your evening meal here, or spending the night," Mme. Thenardier announced.

Fantine shook her head, almost without knowing it. "Thank you, but I think I should catch the next coach as soon as I can."

"It might not be till morning."

"I'll walk and meet it again."

Mme. Thenardier nodded heavily, but whether it was to conceal relief or disappointment, Fantine could not tell. "Well then be on your way. It will be dark soon."

"Thank you Madame," Fantine said hastily as she shouldered her carpetbag. She walked to where Cosette was still playing with the Thenardier girls. "Come, Cosette. We have to go now."

The child looked up with big, protesting eyes. "Maman, play!" she cajoled, looking from her mother to her companions.

"We have a long way to go, Cosette," Fantine said firmly, holding out her hand.

Cosette looked down for a moment before giving her new playmates a grave look. "Bye bye," she whispered, giving them a feeble wave before scooting towards Fantine.

"You two be good for your Maman, please? It was nice to meet you two," Fantine said to the Thenardier girls. She looked up to give Mme. Thenardier a cordial smile. "Thank you for your time Madame."

Mme. Thenardier only nodded again before calling to her girls. Fantine quickly scooped up Cosette and headed down the road, hastening to put as much space between them and the Thenardiers' inn in the shortest possible time. '_I could not leave Cosette to such a debt again,' _she decided, remembering what they had left behind in Paris. Somehow, the privations of the road seemed much friendlier and even more welcoming than the now ominous house.


	2. Chapter 2

_A/N: Thanks for all the support and reviews everyone! Things will pick up a little next chapter. _

**Chapter 2: The Faces of Succour**

Although it was a long journey to Montreuil-sur-mer, Fantine suddenly was reluctant to quit the road once she came in sight of the town one afternoon as the sun was beginning its descent towards the horizon. '_Can I really bring Cosette into this?' _she wondered as she paused at a glen to rest her feet and let Cosette sleep for a little while undisturbed. As she combed out her hair and tied it back with a kerchief, she tried to think of stories and alibis to explain away all the years she'd spent in Paris, but she could not set her brain to concocting a story that could spare her most of the jeering. '_I can't let my child hear such awful things. Maybe I should have left her to stay with someone, maybe in Paris,' _she couldn't help thinking as she splashed some spring water on her face.

Yet that dire thought passed the moment Fantine looked at her daughter dozing peacefully with her pretty head pillowed on the carpetbag. How could she abandon such an angel to the care of strangers? And even so, how could they possibly be reunited? With her resolve now clear, she carefully placed the comb back in the carpetbag before shaking Cosette gently. "Cosette, wake up. We have to go now."

The child yawned and blinked her eyes open. "Maman?" she asked quizzically.

Fantine did not say anything but she helped her daughter to her feet before smoothing out Cosette's hair and her much mended dress. The once white and beribboned gown was now tinged a little gray and the ribbons were somewhat tattered, but some air of charming still remained around Cosette's attire. As for Fantine's own garb, she had done only what was necessary to keep warm and retain her modesty; even now her large blue handkerchief had to cover the much worn neckline of her brown dress. Both Fantine and Cosette were tanned from having walked a great deal under the sun. As a result, this pair was at least several steps above beggary, but a few steps too low for respectability.

Nevertheless Fantine saw no alternative, at least if she was to retain some dignity and happiness about her person. She took Cosette's hand and they walked down the newly paved road towards the center of the town. All the while Fantine kept her head down in order not to elicit any suspicion, but now and then she had to raise her eyes in order to get her bearings. '_I hardly know anything of this place anymore!" _she realized with both bemusement and horror as she took in the sight of the better kept houses and clean roads of the town. The wretched hovels and lean-tos of her girlhood were now replaced by this landscape of newfound prosperity. Another startling change was that the trinkets factory in the 'lower' part of town had suddenly changed its face; what had once been a decrepit edifice was now fresh and bustling with life, and larger than ever.

For a moment this sight filled Fantine with hope; surely this place had a large workroom, and perhaps there would be a place in it even for a former needlewoman like her. Even if it was already the end of the workday, she still held hope that perhaps she could secure a place for the next morning. Yet before she could make her way towards the factory she saw several women exiting the premises, clearly gossiping among themselves. She stopped in her tracks, feeling suddenly chilled. '_If I come forward and ask, they will ask as well and what will I say to them?' _she realized. She suddenly had the feeling as if she was watched from the windows or from the passing coaches, and at that moment it was as if her feet had suddenly taken root on the unforgiving pavement.

Suddenly Cosette tugged on her skirt. "Maman, look!"

"Cosette, it's rude to point!" Fantine chided as she grabbed her child's hand. Even so she couldn't resist looking around for what had caught her daughter's attention, and she almost cringed when she realized that Cosette had been staring at a woman dressed in a flowing white habit. "I'm sorry about that, Sister. She has never seen a nun before," Fantine said furtively to the lady.

The nun gave them that sort of smile which would have been amused and even a little mocking on any other woman, but on her face was only kind. "She isn't the first child to be so startled," she said. "Is she your daughter?"

Fantine nodded. "Her father is gone," she added almost reflexively. For some reason, no lie could leap to her lips, or at least it was impossible in the presence of this seemingly ethereal woman.

The nun's expression was wan as she regarded mother and child. "And where are you staying?"

"We only just arrived," Fantine admitted. Suddenly a wild, almost pitiful idea leapt to her mind. "If it is possible, may we stay at your convent at least till morning?" she asked. "My daughter will not take up much room, and I can sleep on the steps."

"We're hospitalers," the nun replied. "We do not rest at a convent."

"Is there work to be done there?" Fantine inquired. She held out her hands, which still bore the scars of her trade. "I never worked at an apothecary and I'm not a nurse, Sister. I can sew and help make bandages. I promise, my daughter shall be good and won't be a bother if I can stay and work."

The nun sighed as if in deep contemplation. "I shall have to speak with Monsieur the Mayor; he is the one who has a say in the running of the hospital. What is your name, Mademoiselle?"

"Fantine."

"Well then, follow me. At the very least you and Cosette-it's Cosette, isn't it-shall have a good dinner tonight. I will see to that."

"Oh than you Sister!"Fantine cried. Had no one else been on the street, she might have kissed the hem of this nun's habit, but as it was she contented herself with wiping away a happy tear. "How may I call you, Sister?"

"Sister Simplice," the nun replied.

For the first time in many days Fantine felt safe and heartened as she took Cosette's hand and they followed their benefactor towards the hospital some streets away. '_What good fortune these nuns are!" _she couldn't help thinking, despite having once harboured an innocent disregard for their presence during her years in Paris. At the very least she could hope to be treated kindly and perhaps pointed to some situation suitable for her and Cosette.

The nun admitted them to a tiny apartment adjacent to the hospital's entrance. Here, another nun was busy making lint. "Sister Perpetue, we have a guest," Sister Simplice greeted her companion. "The lady is Fantine, and the little girl is Cosette."

Sister Perpetue, who was a more sturdily built and squat woman, nearly knocked over a nearby seat as she got to her feet. "May God bless you, Fantine. And haven't you got such an angel with you," she greeted openly. "Are you travellers?"

Fantine shook her head. "I'm here to make a living."

"We must speak with Monsieur the Mayor about giving her a place here," Sister Simplice said.

"Aren't there always places at the factory?" Sister Perpetue asked.

"Yes, but her child is still too young for the school; there is no way she can work there till that time," Sister Simplice replied. "Haven't we got a little meat for the stew?"

In the meantime Cosette was looking about restlessly, and she suddenly let out a startled cry. "Maman, over there!"

"Shhh. It's a room for sick people to rest," Fantine said, scooping up her child and sitting in a chair across the room so she wouldn't have to look at the sickroom next door.

Cosette's eyes were wide with fright as she climbed into her mother's lap. "Rest?"

"To get better."

Sister Perpetue pinched Cosette's cheek. "Now don't you worry about that, little girl," she crooned over the sound of knocking at the door. "That must be Monsieur the Mayor."

"Also known as Monsieur Madeleine," Sister Simplice explained to Fantine. "He visits every day since he helped put up this place."

Fantine smoothed out her hair just as the door opened to admit a venerable looking gentleman who must have been about fifty or so years old since his hair was thinning but not yet white with age. He was far from frail; there was strength in his shoulders but on closer inspection one could see that he had a way of dragging his right leg. She stood up by way of courtesy as this man exchanged a few gracious words with the nuns. "Good evening Monsieur," she greeted.

The mayor bowed graciously. "Good evening Mesdemoiselles. Welcome to Montreuil-sur-mer."

'_More like welcome home perhaps,' _Fantine thought as she sat down and set Cosette onto the floor. The little girl looked around before darting after Sister Perpetue, who had brought a cake out from a cupboard to tempt her with. She tried not to tap her feet as she watched Sister Simplice and Monsieur Madeleine in discussion; there was no need to even guess what the matter was about. She wrung her skirt in her lap, hardly noticing the creases this made in the fabric.

At length Monsieur Madeleine sat down at the table. "Sister Simplice has just informed me you are seeking work in this town," he said in a grave but polite tone.

"I am willing to do anything, Monsieur," Fantine said. A flying blush crossed her face as she realized how untoward this statement might have sounded. "I had thought of getting a place in the factory, but I do not know if it will be possible since I have my daughter with me, and she is too little to simply stay someplace while I try to work."

"Have you no kin here?"

"None at all. Cosette is all I have."

Monsieur Madeleine nodded pensively. Something in his expression was tender, but it was more akin to that springing from a dear memory than actual pity. "You can see that this hospital is not a large one. Nevertheless there is always much to be done. I cannot promise that you will have much in the way of wages, but there will be room and board for you and Cosette should you choose to have a place here," he finally said.

Fantine stared at him and Sister Simplice in disbelief. "I may stay? "

"If that is your wish," Sister Simplice said.

These words were sweeter than any benediction Fantine had ever heard. "Then I will do my very best here. Oh you are such good people," she replied happily. "I promise you will not regret it, Monsieur Mayor, Sister Simplice!"

"Sister Simplice will show you your tasks after dinner," Monsieur Madeleine said. "Only be honest. That is all I ask."

Fantine nodded happily. "I shall, Monsieur."


	3. Chapter 3

_A/N: More love needed for this fic, guys! _

**Chapter 3: A Nest for Wanderers and Wolves**

By the end of the evening, Fantine had found not just a situation but a room, or to be more to the point, a garret nook. "It is not much but it is warm," Sister Perpetue explained as she showed Fantine and Cosette this tiny room above the hospital. "The windows are wide and let in a great deal of air, so you will not have to worry about any foulness coming up from the hospital," she added in a brighter voice.

"I think it will do nicely," Fantine replied as she looked around the room, which was bare of everything except an old iron bed, a creaky chest of drawers, and a rush chair. She set down her carpetbag next to the bed. "Cosette can share the bed with me; you can see she is so little."

"Someday she will need a cot," Sister Perpetue said as she set up a candle atop the chest of drawers and threw a coverlet onto the bed. She smiled a little ruefully at Fantine. "Sister Simplice believes your coming here is a blessing."

"I don't think my being led here is an accident either-it is better than I hoped for, especially for Cosette," Fantine replied as she wrung her hands.

Sister Perpetue nodded. "Well thank God for it. We begin work at dawn tomorrow. Good night, Fantine. Good night Cosette," she said before quitting the room.

As the door closed, Cosette looked up at her mother. "Maman? We stay here?"

"Yes. This is home now darling," Fantine said, scooping her up and setting her on the bed to remove her shoes. "We both have to be good so we can remain here."

Cosette nodded trustingly as she sucked her thumb. Fantine helped her kick off her little shoes and then looked around the tiny room. It was hardly a place of her own, but it was a roof over her head, and a start of something.

Yes, they could try to be happy here.

It was not an easy life, but it held joys enough. Fantine would rise at dawn and begin sweeping the ward and airing the room while the nuns attended their morning prayers. After this, Sister Perpetue made breakfast for everyone; usually by this time Cosette would be awake and would be trailing after her or after her mother. Sister Simplice in the meantime saw to the restocking of the dispensary, or summoned the parish priest to hear confessions or minister to the dying. By seven in the morning the infirmary doors would be opened, and the place would soon be bustling with people seeking medical attention or visiting ill friends and neighbours. Fantine repaired linen and made bandages, helped move and wash patients, and ran errands for the nuns. The infirmary only closed after vespers, and only then would their little household sit down to its evening meal before retiring for the evening. There was no shortage of things to do, and thus there were few opportunities for Fantine to think back on Tholomyes, her former companions, or almost anything to do with what she had left behind in Paris. Yet there were still a few times, in the deepest watches of the night, that she dreamed she was being serenaded with a soft voice singing to the languid strains of a Spanish guitar.

As for Cosette, she flourished and grew merry. In Paris she'd known only her mother; here in Montreuil-sur-mer there were children her age to run about with. Sister Perpetue loved her chatter when they went about the kitchen together, and Sister Simplice delighted in teaching her simple prayers and catechism. Cosette often played little pranks on Fantine, chattered with the infirmary's inmates, and listened to M. Madeleine whenever he happened to visit the hospital.

Once, towards December of that year, M. Madeleine brought a simple book of drawings and words for the other children in the infirmary. Cosette had listened to him silently, eyes wide as if taking in everything he said. When he was about to take his leave, she walked up to him. "What's there?" she asked, pointing to the book.

"It's a book for children," M. Madeleine said.

Cosette frowned. "Not praying?" she asked. Sister Simplice's prayer book was the only volume to be found in this place.

"It's about something else," M. Madeleine said.

Fantine, who'd been passing by with some linen, looked on curiously. "What is in the book Monsieur?"

"Stories of the folk here," M. Madeleine answered.

Cosette's eyes went round at the mention of stories. "I want one!"

"You're meant to read them, or maybe have someone read them to you," M. Madeleine replied.

Fantine blushed hard on seeing the eager, almost pleading look that Cosette gave her. '_If only I could,' _she thought ashamedly. "Maybe Sister Simplice or Sister Perpetue can read to you after vespers," she suggested kindly.

It was enough impetus for Cosette to take the book from M. Madeleine and thank him effusively before running off to show Sister Perpetue her new prize. Fantine winced before looking at the mayor, who now had a thoughtful air about him. "I only know how to write my name," she explained. "Once Cosette starts school, she will know better than I will!"

"It isn't too late for you, Mademoiselle," M. Madeline said.

Fantine laughed. "At my age, learning to read!" The idea was incredulous, almost too fantastical. M. Madeleine simply sighed before taking his leave. That night, when Cosette was asleep, Fantine opened a page of the book to try to make sense of the letters printed beside pictures of familiar objects such as an apple, a cat, a house, and the sun.

Time passed, marked with this slow but steady progress. Cosette grew and Fantine mused, and before long nearly two years had elapsed.

It was then that this peace was broken by an otherwise unremarkable instance. One afternoon, Fantine was busying herself with a basket of bandages, and had left Cosette to run about and play, provided she did not wake any of the patients in the infirmary. In the midst of cutting and folding the linen, Fantine suddenly heard an indignant yell from the passage followed by her child's scream. She jumped up from her seat and ran into the next room, and found Cosette quavering on the floor, clutching her reddened cheek. Looming over her was an indignant crone, one hand still clutching her rosary while the other was poised to strike the little girl again.

"Leave her alone!" Fantine shouted, pushing back the woman before scooping up Cosette. "How dare you hit her!"

"This little brat has no respect for her elders. Imagine, interrupting my prayers-" the woman retorted.

"She's a child, she certainly didn't mean it!" Fantine shot back. Her rage only heightened on seeing how red her daughter's cheek was; without a doubt the red handprint there would certainly turn into a bruise. "Just see what you've done!"

"If you kept better watch on her, I wouldn't have to discipline her," the woman snapped.

"I don't care what you mean to do or say, but no one ever hits my child," Fantine said furiously.

Suddenly the door to the nuns' apartment opened. "Why what's the commotion?" Sister Simplice asked. Her eyes were startled, then worried as she took in the scene. "She's not hurt, is she?" she asked Fantine.

"Only a bruise," Fantine said through gritted teeth.

Sister Simplice nodded with the serenity of someone who already knew what to do in this terse conflict. "Cosette, I think Sister Perpetue has tartlets she wants you to try. She's in the kitchen," she said. She turned to look at the crone. "Madame Victurnien, I believe Monsieur the Mayor is still at his previous appointment. He hasn't been here to visit yet."

Madame Victurnien's expression soured further. "There is an urgent matter in the workroom. Where is he now?"

"Maybe he is at his office," Sister Simplice said, stepping aside to let Cosette flee into the kitchen.

Madame Victurnien chewed the inside of her cheek. "Thank you Sister Simplice," she said before stalking out of the infirmary.

Fantine crossed her arms and shook her head as the door shut. "I cannot believe it!" she whispered indignantly. "Cosette didn't mean any harm and she hit her!"

Sister Simplice sighed deeply. "Madame Victurnien has had much to worry about since her neighbor is ill and she is the only one around to watch. God grant her peace of mind." She motioned for Fantine to sit before picking up some linen and beginning to fold it. "Though I advise you stay out of the way; there is no use in provoking another's anger."

"How could you stand to be around her? I wouldn't do it for a million francs," Fantine muttered.

"Nor would I, but for Him I would," Sister Simplice said, gesturing briefly to the heavens. For a long while the two women worked in an amiable silence, until a knock sounded on the infirmary door. The nun got to her feet and opened it. "Ah Monsieur Madeleine! Madame Victurnien was here a little while ago, looking for you," she greeted.

"Yes, I have spoken to her," the mayor said. He nodded to a man standing next to him. "I am only giving a brief tour to our recently arrived Inspector."

By this time Fantine had gotten to her feet, but she found herself taking a slight step back at the mere sight of the inspector. He was lofty and grim, with whiskers and a long face that did not do much to inspire anyone's confidence. The contrast between him and the mayor was like that of a dark place just adjacent to a soft glow from a lamp. "Good afternoon and welcome to Montreuil-sur-mer, Monsieur Inspector-" she greeted.

The man cut her off with a shake of his head followed by something of a grin,. His smile would have been cordial had it ever managed to reach his eyes. "Madame, the name is Inspector Javert."


	4. Chapter 4

_A/N: Thanks a lot for the reviews and feedback, everyone!_

**Chapter 4: Providence and Inquiry**

It turned out that it was not only Fantine who stepped back from Javert's mere presence. Much of the town gave him a wide berth, partly owing to the nature of his office and partly owing to his bearing. "Maman, why is the Inspector scarier than the bad men?" Cosette asked one day as she and Fantine were hurrying back from the market.

Fantine was agog at this question even as she took Cosette's hand to keep her from tripping in a deep gutter at the entrance of an alley they used as a shortcut to get back to their home. "Cosette, it's not nice to ask such things!"

"Maman, I'm afraid," Cosette said in a small voice. "When the other children see him they run away."

"You're not a bad girl, so he'll never come after you," Fantine said firmly, unwilling to provide any unkind comment on the inspector's physiognomy. '_He can't help looking that way, no more than Felix could help being bald,' _the thought occurred to her. The unbidden memory of her former lover was a sharp pinprick, and she felt her breath catch in her throat for a moment.

Cosette tugged her skirt. "Maman?"

"I'm fine, Cosette," Fantine said, swiping at her eyes. At that very moment a shout followed by a dreadful rumble came from up the street. Fantine swiftly pushed Cosette aside before jumping out of the way, falling hard against the curb a split second before a cart veered through the alley before tumbling down with a dreadful crash at the end of the street.

Fantine winced at the raw pain that blossomed in her elbows and her shins from her attempt to break her fall. Next to her, Cosette jumped to her feet. "Maman, there's someone under the cart!" the little girl shouted, pointing to where a crowd was already flocking around the broken vehicle.

"Oh God, no," Fantine whispered as she stood up and checked herself over; her skirt and one sleeve were torn and her clothes were streaked with mud. She saw that the cart had crashed into an unpaved spot of the road, and was slowly sinking into the mire. '_That man underneath will be crushed!" _she realized, shuddering with horror both at this sight and at the pitiful shrieks of the horse that had been drawing the cart; the poor animal could not rise owing to its broken legs. As she and Cosette ran towards this scene, she caught sight of Inspector Javert hurriedly conferring with M. Madeleine. The mayor was seen to pale for a brief moment at something that Javert said, but in a flash he was under the cart, despite the shocked and concerned shouts of the bystanders.

"Someone get him out of there! He's going to be crushed too!" an old woman shrieked from nearby.

"_What is he doing? He can't lift it from under there!"_ Fantine thought, finding herself unable to speak or call to M. Madeleine. A frightening silence reigned over all, as if the slightest effort would send the wreck tumbling to crush the men under it. Yet suddenly the cart was seen to shake and rise from the mud, raised excruciatingly on the shoulders of M. Madeleine. At this sight most of the bystanders rushed to help him lift the cart the rest of the way, while Fantine assisted two men in extricating the cart's unfortunate driver from under the wreck.

"Poor, poor Father Fauchelevent," one of the men said. "Getting back on that crutch will be the least of his problems, just look at his poor horse."

'_At least he's alive!" _Fantine wanted to retort even as she cautiously looked over the injured man, who'd half-swooned with pain and shock. "We have to bring him to the infirmary. It's not far off," she said. She looked to M. Madeleine, who was wiping his sweaty brow. "Monsieur Madeleine, are you well?"

The mayor nodded with visible relief. "See to him and tell Sister Simplice what happened. I'll handle matters here," he told her.

Cosette looked on with trepidation. "Maman, will he live?"

"He will, my love. Now run ahead home and tell Sister Simplice or Sister Perpetue to set out a bed and fetch the doctor," Fantine said. She saw Javert watching this scene with an unreadable look on his face, almost as if he was sinking into some dire reverie. '_Is he well too?' _she couldn't help wondering even as she helped bring the almost senseless Fauchelevent to the infirmary. Much to her relief the nuns were already expecting them, and in short order Fauchelevent was brought to a quiet bed.

When the doctor arrived, he found that Fauchelevent had a dislocated kneecap as well as a number of cuts and scrapes. "There is no peril to his life. However it is likely that he will never be able to use that leg of his properly again," he told Sister Perpetue and Fantine, who were tending to the injured man while Sister Simplice was giving Cosette a catechism lesson.

"He will walk again, will he?" Sister Perpetue asked.

"Yes, but it may be very limited. The knee may always remain somewhat frozen and may pain him somewhat," the doctor said grimly. "I only say 'may' and not 'will', there have been inexplicable cures even with such grievous bone injuries. In the meantime it is imperative to keep the knee straight and still to prevent the swelling of the knee. I may have to bleed the joint if the swelling persists the day after tomorrow."

Sister Perpetue crossed herself. "Good God spare him!"

From the bed, Fauchelevent groaned by way of awakening before making an effort to sit up. "I am more thankful that it was not my ribs that were cracked, or that would have ended me in a moment," he said sharply to Sister Perpetue.

"Monsieur, you mustn't move about so, the doctor said to keep the knee straight," Fantine said worriedly from where she was preparing to bandage his injured limb.

"And what of the rest of me?" Fauchelevent griped before checking himself. He cleared his throat before smiling more kindly at Fantine. "Thank you for bringing me here, Mademoiselle..."

"Fantine," the young woman said.

"Ah, but must you always be named for a child? I had thought you'd have a fine name like Hyacinthe," he teased gently. He looked around the infirmary. "Where is Monsieur Madeleine?"

"He said he had something to arrange outside," Fantine said. In the flurry and rush of tending to the patient, they had all quite forgotten the benefactor. '_Perhaps he'll be along soon,' _she thought as she finished bandaging Fauchelevent's leg and then headed to the dispensary to fetch a bottle of physic.

Much to her discomfiture she found Madame Victurnien there, apparently accompanying a frail girl from the factory. The crone looked Fantine over from head to toe. "Are you a relative of Father Fauchelevent?" she asked."It's surprising you are so solicitous to him."

"It is what I have to do for work here," Fantine replied as she retrieved the bottle. She frowned as she tried to recall a Scripture passage she'd heard the local priest say once about a servant not needing any praise for doing a good deed, but somehow the words just wouldn't come to mind. "I'd do the same for anyone else," she added when she realized Madame Victurnien was still watching her.

The older woman nodded haughtily. "Well do you have any kin then? What of your daughter's father?"

"He is gone," Fantine answered in a clipped tone.

"Where?" Madame Victurnien challenged. "I know you weren't married."

"What is it to you, Madame?" Fantine asked, setting down the bottle before she could inadvertently drop it; she could already feel her hands shaking with an unbidden anger. It was all she could do not to bite back with what she had learned too from working at the dispensary. '_She had a monk for a lover, and somehow everyone here knows it,' _she thought.

"You say you were born in this town, but there is no record of your baptism in the church," Madame Victurnien said haughtily, apparently heedless of the rage in Fantine's look. "One must be christened to be wedded."

Fantine felt her cheeks burn with shame and she lowered her eyes. "How could I be baptized if I am an orphan?" she asked weakly.

Madame Victurnien chuckled condescendingly. "You poor girl. You'd better watch your step now; you know that dishonesty is not allowed, especially by the mayor."

"I have never lied about anything, Madame!" Fantine shot back.

"We shall see," the matron pronounced before sweeping out of the dispensary.

Fantine had to take a few deep breaths to calm down before she snatched up the bottle of physic and ran back to the infirmary. As she entered she found Cosette and M. Madeleine standing by Fauchelevent's bedside. The mayor signalled for the child to be quiet even as he put an envelope on the bedside table.

"He'll live, but there's that leg of his," Fantine said as she stole up to them.

M. Madeleine nodded. "The doctor told me." He eyed the bottle in her hand. "Are you going to give him a dose?"

"When he wakes," Fantine said. "It was a good thing you came by to help. But how could you have lifted that entire cart on your back?"

The mayor's eyes seemed to grow dark, as if troubled. "I learned while I was living elsewhere," he said in a low voice, as if he was thinking of something far off. He shut his eyes for a moment before looking at Fantine again. "Please ensure he gets this. Thank you for your help, Mademoiselle Fantine," he said more graciously before he took his leave.

Cosette stared after him as he closed the door behind him. "Maman, it's a gift for the old man," she whispered. "Something about so many francs?"

Now completely startled, Fantine picked up the envelope and felt the distinct thinness and shape of a bank note. '_What sort of a man is he?" _she wondered. Who else now had a secret in Montreuil-sur-mer?


	5. Chapter 5

_A/N: Thanks for the reviews everyone! Finally have time to work on this, now that the worst of the final exams are clearing out. _

**Chapter 5: The Accused**

Unfortunately for Fantine's curiosity, it was all too easily banished by pressing matters. Just as the doctor had predicted, Father Fauchelevent's knee remained stiff regardless of whatever rubs, exercises and prayers the joint was subjected to. That was his only lingering malady since what ill will he harboured towards M. Madeleine had vanished, especially since the mayor had helped him find a new situation at a convent in Paris. "Were it not for the fact that a man should have a place, I should hate to leave this town of good people," he had said the evening before he departed for the city. "A pity I should find such caring all too late!"

Fantine had only smiled at this opinion, for regardless of the good cheer in the infirmary, she still could not shake the gathering feeling of gloom. "I wish you well then in Paris. It is a good place for some to start anew," she had simply said as she helped him pack his belongings. This was, as far as she was concerned, not a lie. That had been true for her for some years of her life after all.

It was on a February day not long after Fauchelevent's departure, that Fantine's foreboding came into full bloom. At about ten in the morning, while she was sewing in the infirmary, Sister Perpetue rushed in agitatedly clutching a sheet of paper. "Fantine, can you spare a moment?" the poor nun asked breathlessly. "This letter has to be noted by Monsieur the Mayor right away; the abbess needs it as soon as she can."

Fantine, knowing better than to inquire, got to her feet. "Will he be at his office now?"

"Perhaps. You know he doesn't go to the factory till afternoons," Sister Perpetue said distractedly.

Fantine took off her rather worn apron and smoothed down her dress, feeling slightly thankful that she'd chosen to don a new blue dress instead of her old pink one. '_It would be horrifying to talk of official things when wearing such an old thing,' _she thought as she made her way to the mayor's office in the town hall.

When she arrived there, the door was closed tightly but she could hear the distinct murmur of confidential conversation. '_What does the Inspector have to do today with the Mayor?' _she wondered even as she stayed away from the door lest she be taken for eavesdropping. After a few moments Javert exited the office, his brow knitted deep in thought and with his hat under his arm. Fantine did not hear if he greeted her or not, but instead she steeled herself to knock on the door.

M. Madeleine himself opened the door. "Ah Mademoiselle Fantine. Can I help you?"

Fantine managed a quick curtsy before bringing the letter out of her pocket. "It's from the abbess of the sisters. It has to be read right away."

M. Madeleine quickly opened the note and surveyed its contents before bidding Fantine to follow him into his office. For a moment Fantine was awestruck for she had been half-expecting to be welcomed into a stuffy, forbidding space reeking of antiquity and grandeur with large tapers and imposing furniture. To her surprise, the room was spare, with only a simple desk, bookshelves and the roughest of chairs. There was nothing grand or characteristic about this room. "Monsieur Madeleine?" she asked concernedly as the man went to his desk to write.

"I'll speak to the abbess," M. Madeleine said distractedly. He brought another document out of his desk. "There is much I must do. If it will not be too much trouble, Mademoiselle, could you please give this to the foreman at the factory?"

"I can," Fantine said. After all she would pass by the workshop en route back to the infirmary. "Monsieur Madeleine, are you well?"

"I am only preoccupied," the mayor said cordially. "Thank you, Mademoiselle."

'_Has the Inspector done something to upset him again?' _she wondered before quickly rushing off to the workshop. She cast a glance over her shoulder and saw M. Madeleine walking off in the general direction of M. Scaufflaire's house, not far off. She was met at her destination by a friendly porter, who immediately pointed out the foreman to her. As she silently made her way through the workroom towards the man walking past the workstations, she could hear whispers and giggles as one woman after another looked up from her workbench and followed her with her eyes.

The foreman eyed her with disdain. "Why did the mayor send you?" he sneered as he received the document. "I was expecting him to come himself."

"He's busy," Fantine blurted out, but in a moment she realized her mistake, for now every eye in the hall was upon her. She looked down quickly if only to avoid the foreman's scrutinizing gaze. "I'm sorry for the interruption, Monsieur," she said before backing out of the workroom.

As she reached the door, a plump hand seized her wrist. "A tramp like you had better watch out," one of the matrons of the workroom hissed before shoving her out of the workroom. "The mayor's name can only do so much for your kind."

Fantine winced as she felt the sting of where this woman's nails had nearly broken through her skin. She tried to find the words to protest this accusation, but she could not feel even her own breath on her lips. At that moment it was as if a vise had suddenly gripped her chest, and the only way she could get free was to run. Her head spun as she willed her feet to move, but one effort soon led to another and before she knew it she was standing at the door of the infirmary.

When she stepped in, Sister Perpetue was on the stairs but now she dropped an entire armful of linen and ran to Fantine. "Fantine, what has happened? You're as pale as a ghost!" she asked, catching the swaying woman in her arms.

"I only need to rest," Fantine said, now recovering her breath. "I'm fine, truly," she added. Inasmuch as she wished to speak of what had transpired, she did not trust the walls and half open doors of the infirmary. Somehow her tale would return to the factory, and certainly to Madame Victurnien. '_One word from her, and I can never set foot anywhere again,' _she realized.

Yet despite this, Fantine still endeavoured to be gay and keep up her chatter, if only to ally not only her friends' suspicions but even Cosette's. The rest of the day passed swiftly and without any more incidents. It was about six in the evening when at last Sister Simplice noted something singular. "Why, the Mayor hasn't been in here all day," she said at dinner.

"He's thinking a lot, Sister," Cosette chimed in. "I saw him walking like he's dreaming or thinking very, very hard."

Fantine said nothing, but recalled only what she had seen in the office earlier that day. "He has a lot to do," she said almost flippantly. After all why else would he have been speaking to Javert?

"The scary Inspector is going. I saw him talking to the diligence man," Cosette said.

"Oh child, don't go poking where you shouldn't," Sister Perpetue scolded her affectionately.

"Is he going to chase a bad man elsewhere, Maman?" Cosette asked Fantine.

"Maybe, or he's off to visit someone important. Inspectors sometimes do that," Fantine replied. After all back in Paris, she'd occasionally seen the Prefect and some of his men making official calls at various places within the Latin Quartier. Yet as amusing as Cosette's questioning was, it only served to fuel Fantine's disquiet. '_Does she know things now too?' _she wondered silently later that night as she lay awake and watched her daughter sleep, seemingly untroubled by the shadows growing around them.

Fantine did not know how long she tossed and turned, but eventually this exercise grew tiresome and she went to the window of her garret. The street was silent save for the two lights of a tilbury making its way down the lane. '_Who could be travelling so early?' _she wondered as she caught up a shawl and drew it around her shoulders for warmth. She sat for a few minutes, watching the carriage draw further and further away into the gloom before carefully adjusting the blankets around Cosette and hurrying downstairs to begin seeing to her chores.

Such was the calm before the storm. Fantine's outward gaiety had almost become something more inward by mid-afternoon, and she could feel her spirits lifting. She now sang as she worked, allowing herself to fall into reverie. _'By the light of the moon, My friend Pierrot, Lend me your pen_...' she sang over the sound of two harsh knocks at the door. She looked around and saw that both nuns were at work, so she got to her feet and went to the door.

She froze on seeing one of the policemen there, accompanied by some women she recognized from the factory. "There! She's the thief!" one of the workers screeched.

The policeman glared at her and signed for her to be quiet. "Are you Mademoiselle Fantine?" he asked more respectfully.

Fantine nodded even as she felt her hands tighten on the doorway. "What's happened?"

"There's been an incident at the workshop. You must come immediately to the police station," the policeman said.

Fantine's jaw dropped as she realized what was going on. "Monsieur, I was at the factory yesterday on an errand, but I did not take anything. I did not even touch anything," she said, fighting to keep her voice level. "Monsieur, you have to believe me, I'm not a thief!"

"That's what they all say," another woman jeered. "Take her now, Monsieur, before she causes a ruckus," she said to the constable.

The policeman looked at Fantine almost regretfully. "Mademoiselle, please. We cannot have a scene here," he said.

Fantine cast an anguished glance at the clock; at any moment, her daughter would be returning from another day at school. Her gaze met Sister Perpetue's horrified one. "If Cosette asks, tell her I've only gone out. I'll be back soon," she begged.

"But Fantine-" the nun began.

"Please! She mustn't know till someone can come to help," Fantine insisted over the murmurs coming from the doorway. '_Please let her tell Monsieur Madeleine where I am,' _she thought.

Sister Perpetue now finally managed a nod. "Go then, before she sees."

"Thank you, Sister," Fantine whispered before stepping outside and bowing her head as she followed the constable through the crowd.


	6. Chapter 6

_A/N: And so trouble begins!_

**Chapter 6: The Pruner from Faverolles**

Even if Fantine kept her gaze fixed on her feet all the way to the police station, she still felt stripped and bare under every scornful glance thrown her way. '_What sorts of things might they be saying to each other now?' _she wondered frantically as she tried to keep up with the police officer escorting her. Everything was now a fog before her eyes, which were now hot with the tears she did not dare to show to anyone. At times she felt as if she would collapse right there in the street but she willed herself to walk on, at least till the door of the police station.

For a moment she feared that she would see the formidable Inspector at the desk, but she saw only a bored seargent waiting in the station. "Monsieur, I do not know what they have brought me in for. I'm sure it must be some mistake. You have to believe me," she greeted breathlessly.

The seargent blinked blearily at her. "What is going on?"

"This woman was said to be in the factory yesterday, right when the money purse went missing," the arresting officer reported. "The other workers pointed her out."

Fantine felt her legs shake at this accusation and she clutched at the wall for support. "It's not true! I was at the factory yesterday but only to give a message!"

The seargent rifled through a pile of papers on his desk. "I have a statement here from the overseers that you were meddling in the workroom, and that you disrupted the flow of work and made off with the purse that had been with the foreman."

Fantine shook her head. "It's not true. They all saw me talking to the foreman of that shift, but that was all I did. Where did they get such an idea?"

"Is there anyone else who can vouch for your whereabouts and actions, Mademoiselle?" the arresting constable questioned firmly.

"Monsieur Madeleine was the one who gave me the message for the foreman," Fantine replied. "He can tell you I didn't do anything wrong."

"Why would he entrust you with such a task?" the seargent sneered. "Monsieur the Mayor is seeing to an _important_ errand out of town today. You will simply have to wait here, Mademoiselle, the whole night if need be."

It was only now that Fantine's strength gave out thoroughly and she sank to the floor, huddling with her knees to her chest in order to hide her face. The idea of not being able leave on time, of having her daughter hear that she was taken away by the police, and of passing a sleepless night in this cold jailhouse was all too much for her to bear. '_And when I get out, what will people say? Everyone will know for sure I've been here,' _she realized with horror and revulsion. The crowd that had accosted her at the factory and then at the infirmary now seemed to her to be akin to a pack of wolves eager to pounce and rip her from limb to limb.

It was at that moment that the station house door opened and the seargent at the desk rose to his feet. "Monsieur Inspector," he greeted the newcomer respectfully.

Fantine looked up even as she felt her limbs trembling, and it was with a great effort that she found herself on her feet. "Monsieur Inspector, I'm sorry to trouble you after your journey," she said as she managed a shaky curtsy. "Someone has played a dreadful trick on me, and wants me locked up though I did nothing. You have to let me go right away."

Javert's eyes were hooded as he regarded Fantine first, then the statement that the seargent handed to him. "Dismiss the crowd outside," he ordered the other men in the station. "There are many who are speaking against you, Mademoiselle," he said gravely to Fantine.

"I do not know what I did to make them talk that way about me," Fantine gasped, almost afraid now that her next words would leave her throat as a sob. "Monsieur Inspector, I have tried to be a good woman. I have not done anything to hurt anyone even if sometimes they try to vex me. I do not gossip, I do not even know what they are about. I'm not a thief, I swear it."

"Have you any proof in your favour?" Javert inquired harshly.

"Monsieur, you do not believe me? Oh you must!" Fantine begged. She threw herself at his feet and clasped his hands. "I cannot stay the night here. My daughter, you've seen her, will be asking for me. And what are the good sisters to tell her?"

Javert backed away from her. "Compose yourself, Mademoiselle. You are facing a very serious charge here and have had little to say for yourself so far." He turned to a constable just entering the station. "Please conduct Mademoiselle to her cell, where she will stay till this inquiry is resolved."

Fantine fell back so she was resting on her haunches, and buried her face in her hands to stifle her sobs for fear they would be heard outside the station. "Oh God! Oh God! What to do now?" she wept. She cringed as she heard the station door opening again and curled up on the floor.

Javert looked up sharply at this interruption but he bowed respectfully when he saw who was there. "Good afternoon Sister Perpetue."

The nun was red in the face, both from running and from the winter chill. "I have a letter from Monsieur the Mayor. He says that Fantine did nothing wrong and that she has to be released this minute," she said, thrusting a folded note into Javert's face.

Javert silently read the missive and put it down on the desk along with the other papers. He wrote down a quick note and folded it. "Constable, please bring this to the foreman at the factory. Make it clear to him he is to comply, otherwise I will have to take further action against him." He looked sternly at Fantine. "Go home, Mademoiselle."

Fantine shakily stood up and held on to Sister Perpetue's arm for support. "I thought that Monsieur Madeleine was away?" she asked in a shaky undertone.

"He only just arrived," Sister Perpetue explained as she gently led Fantine out of the police station. "They weren't rough on you?"

Fantine shook her head. "Where's Cosette?"

"With Sister Simplice," the nun replied.

"Thank you," Fantine murmured, now feeling at last that she could breathe. However when she looked about, she saw that there was a crowd waiting for her and Sister Perpetue. She clutched at the nun's arm. "What are we going to do?"

Sister Perpetue patted Fantine's hand before squaring her shoulders and going before the crowd. "The inspector already told all of you to go home. It's almost supper," she said.

"Step away from that hussy, Sister," Madame Victurnien, the only bold one in this group, spoke up.

Sister Perpetue shook her head. "We're going home."

Madame Victurnien's scowl soured further at the nun, but it was evident she would not dare to strike in front of this presence. "I do not know what she did to the inspector and his men, but it will not work on us," she said, casting a venomous look on Fantine. It was evident that she had been humiliated by the mayor's intervention, and she would not be gainsaid.

"If she tries it again, we will not be so kind to her or to the little girl either," another woman threatened.

"Don't you dare hurt my child," Fantine shouted as she stepped forward.

"What, you will tell the Mayor? I am not so sure he'll defend you now, if he knew what a liar and thief you are," Madame Victurnien taunted. She looked about and paled as she realized that the constables had followed Fantine and were now surrounding the mob. "You watch your step."

"I will," Fantine managed to say as the crowd began to move away, most of them silent but others still hissing imprecations. It was becoming clearer to her now that there was only one recourse left for her and Cosette. "We cannot stay," she said to Sister Perpetue.

"Yes, we must hurry back home. It's going to be a cold night," Sister Perpetue said.

Fantine shook her head. "Cosette and I can't stay in this town any longer."

Sister Perpetue paled. "Why?"

"You heard them. I may be safe today, but they'll come up with something else tomorrow, or sometime soon. Why must they be so horrid?" Fantine asked, struggling not to cry. "I'm an honest woman."

"I know."

"And I didn't do anything wrong."

Sister Perpetue sighed. "Who knows where malice comes from? It will all look better in the morning, Fantine. Besides, think. Where will you and Cosette go?"

"Someplace where we shan't be known. Maybe I will simply say I'm a widow," Fantine said. "Anywhere. Maybe even back to Paris. It's been some years now."

The nun nodded gravely. "I wish you wouldn't."

"You know I must."

"At the very least, inform Monsieur the Mayor. If you are so set on this, he will help you, even write you a recommendation for you and Cosette. He will make sure you are provided for."

Fantine nodded, seeing the wisdom in these words. "I'll be back as soon as I can. Thank you," she murmured before setting off for Monsieur Madeleine's house, which was not far from the infirmary proper. She saw from the street that there was a light in one of the upstairs chambers, and so she hastened her steps. The portress was mysteriously absent from her post, but Fantine thought nothing of it and went straight to the second floor. "Monsieur Madeleine!" she called, knocking on the first closed door she found.

The door opened a crack. "Fantine? You shouldn't be here," the mayor greeted in a hollow one.

"Yes, but I need to speak with you right away," Fantine insisted as she threw the door open. She gasped when she saw M. Madeleine's face. "Oh good God! What has happened to you?" The man's gray hair was now as white as snow.

M. Madeleine sighed grimly. "Yes, it was not this way a few hours ago."

"Are you ill?" Fantine asked. "You were acting so oddly yesterday."

The mayor shook his head. "You must go."

Fantine swallowed hard before making a final effort; in her fright she quite failed to notice that M. Madeleine's eyes were dark and troubled despite his calm. "Monsieur Madeleine, I wish I didn't have to, but Cosette and I must leave Montreuil-sur-mer," she said.

M. Madeleine started. "Leave! Why?"

"Madame Victurnien and all the women..." Fantine trailed off as she tried to quell the harrowing memories of the past few hours. "I fear for my child's life. She is no safer here than she would be if we stayed in Paris."

M. Madeleine shook his head. "I will make sure someone will speak to her. The foreman-"

"He was part of it too," Fantine said. "Monsieur, you have been very, very kind to me and my daughter. I wish I could stay and still be of help to you and the sisters, but I can't. But could you please help me one last time still?"

M. Madeleine smiled at her sadly. "How then, can I help you?"

"Is there a place that Cosette and I can go?" Fantine asked. "Surely you must know some place; you're the mayor after all."

The man seemed stricken by these words. "Fantine, you do not look on a mayor, but on a man condemned, and rightfully so."

"Condemned? For what?" Fantine asked. She could see now that M. Madeleine had been putting his room in order, and had laid some items out on a table. "You, a saint!"

"A thief and a convict," M. Madeleine corrected. "I did a wrong thing many, many years ago, and now I must pay rightfully for it."

"In prison?"

"In the galleys. Fantine, you must go now!"

Fantine almost shrieked at the mention of that horror known as the galleys, but a sudden resolve took hold of her and instead she clasped M. Madeleine's wrist. "Then you must come with me and Cosette."

"Impossible. I would only endanger you both."

"You asked how you can help me, and I ask that you do not let us travel alone."

"The police will arrest you as well if they see you with me. What then will become of Cosette?" M. Madeleine asked gently.

Fantine shook her head, unwilling to dwell on this possibility. "What will become of us if we are to face this winter alone?" She saw M. Madeleine's look grow grave at this question. "We plan to go far away, maybe as far as Paris, maybe even further. No one can find you there."

M. Madeleine looked down, as if something had finally broken him or as if he was considering some grave possibility. "I will see you and Cosette to safety, that much at least I can do before I must give myself up." He cast a glance over his shoulder at the things in his room before quickly going in to snatch up a bundle that had been lying to one side. "We must go right away."

"Thank you Monsieur Madeleine!" Fantine said quickly but she regretted it almost instantly on seeing the mayor flinch at that name. They silently made their way to the infirmary, where they found Cosette waiting at the doorstep.

The little girl let out a cry and ran into Fantine's arms. "Maman! The people were saying you weren't coming back!" she sobbed.

Fantine looked at Sister Perpetue and Sister Simplice. "Who said that?"

"Some of the patients' relatives," Sister Simplice replied sadly. "Fantine, may I please ask you to stay?"

At that moment Fantine almost relented, but one look at Cosette's pale frightened face only strengthened her resolve. "Were I alone, I would be strong and bear it, but my child cannot. "

Cosette looked at Fantine curiously. "Maman? What is happening?"

Fantine crouched so that she was eye level with her child. "We have to live elsewhere, Cosette. We will be leaving this town right away."

Cosette's eyes went wide. "Maman! Why?"

"Please, don't ask and just do as I say," Fantine whispered sternly as she hurried to the garret to begin packing their few belongings. By this time Cosette's dresses were much larger than those she had on arriving in Montreuil-sur-mer, and it took a fair bit of work for Fantine to make these things fit in her lone carpetbag. She put on some of her own clothes in layers in order to save as many items as possible, but nevertheless she still had to leave one of her good dresses behind.

Cosette watched these preparations silently for a little while. "Maman, can I bring this?" she begged, holding the book that M. Madeleine had given her.

"Oh!" Fantine cried as she grabbed the book. '_Is there still room for it?' _she wondered, knowing that it would break Cosette's heart to leave it behind. Much to her relief she found that she could just squeeze the book in between some of their clothes.

Just as she was helping Cosette put on a cape over her clothing, she heard a pounding on the infirmary door. '_The police!' _Fantine realized, fearful now not only for herself and for Cosette, but for M. Madeleine. She blew out the candle in the garret and tiptoed to where she could push the door open a crack. From where she stood she could see M. Madeleine in a dark corner behind the door; from elsewhere in the room he was not so easily espied. Sister Simplice was kneeling at her prie-de-dieu, clutching a rosary to her forehead.

Cosette wriggled under Fantine's arm to take a look and let out a little gasp. "Maman, the Inspector!"

"Shhh, Cosette!" Fantine whispered, hardly daring even to breathe. She saw Javert in the doorway, his face stern and almost imperious as he surveyed the room. '_Don't let him come nearer, don't let him see!' _Fantine prayed silently. One wrong move, one cough, or even one breath would doom them all.

Javert stood for a long moment as he looked at Sister Simplice. "Sister, are you alone in this room?"

Sister Simplice looked up calmly from her prie-de-dieu. "Yes."

Javert nodded. "Then, I must ask only out of duty Sister, have you seen this evening a man—his name is Jean Valjean? Has he been in the infirmary this evening?"

Sister Simplice's voice was solemn. "No."

Javert made a deep bow. "Pardon me," he said before stepping back and closing the door.

Up in the garret, Fantine fell against the door, not trusting herself to move after witnessing such a terrible scene. At last she grabbed her carpetbag and hurried downstairs to where Sister Simplice was now bowed over her prie-de-dieu. "Oh Sister..." she whispered almost in disbelief.

The nun's face was white but she managed a smile. "It was that or the worse sin."

Fantine warily looked to the man standing in the corner and met his stricken expression. She had to clap her hand over her mouth to keep from calling him "Monsieur Madeleine", for she already knew that in a matter of hours he would be dead to many of those who had once revered him. "Monsieur?" she asked.

He looked down. "No, not that. I am only a pruner from Faverolles."

Fantine nodded, though the name of the village was unfamiliar to her. "I am only an urchin who's fallen in a bad way." She glanced at Cosette, who was watching them both with a pensive look. "This never was home for any of us."

The man nodded gravely. "You and Cosette must go soon."

"And you should come along before the police will return."

Sister Simplice got to her feet. "I will make sure your instructions will get to the cure," she said to the man who had been called Monsieur Madeleine. She dabbed at her eyes. "May God protect the three of you, wherever you may go."

Fantine smiled bravely before looking to where Cosette was now tearfully clutching at Sister Perpetue, and then at their mysterious companion. "Will we meet again? I'm sure we must."

"If God wills it," Sister Simplice said. "Go now before someone returns."

Fantine nodded before shouldering her carpetbag. "Come, Cosette," she said, holding out her hand. She took a deep breath as Cosette's little hand closed around hers, before they followed Jean Valjean out into the forbidding night.


	7. Chapter 7

_A/N: Here we go! _

**Chapter 7: The Travelers in the Woods**

Owing to the haste of flight and the dangers of the night, there was no room in Fantine's mind for any questions or even the slightest hint of doubt. The only thought was to make sure that she and her companions could get as far away as possible from Montreuil-sur-mer and anyone who would be searching for them. It was only when they stopped to rest and she caught sight of the first pale rays of dawn that she realized the possible folly of what she had just agreed to. She looked to where Cosette was asleep, using the carpetbag as a pillow and her cape as a mattress. '_My daughter and I on the run, and fleeing with a former convict!' _she thought as she trained her gaze on the man standing at the roadside, looking up and down for any sign of trouble.

Yet all the same, this was the man who had helped her time and again, and was still on her side. She took a few deep breaths to summon her courage before stepping over to him. "Monsieur Valjean?" she asked tentatively.

Jean Valjean turned quickly, as if startled, before realizing who had spoken to him. "Mademoiselle Fantine. Is there anything you need?"

"Nothing. You shouldn't call me Mademoiselle though, Fantine said, feeling embarrassed at this little courtesy. A thousand questions were leaping in her mind, and it was a few more moments till she could settle on one. "Where exactly is Faverolles?"

"In the region of Brie. It is quite a long way from here," Jean Valjean answered. He tightened his grip around his walking stick, which was actually just part of a broken bough that he had found in the night. "I have nothing to return to there."

"No family whatsoever?" Fantine asked.

"Only my sister. The last I heard, she was in Paris with my youngest nephew, the youngest of seven. I don't know where the other six are," Jean Valjean said. "That was long ago though; they may not be there anymore," he added.

Fantine nodded, knowing all too well how easy it was to lose track of persons in that city. Perhaps, she fancied, she might even have met them without knowing it. "How could a man as good as you be a convict? I almost do not believe it."

Jean Valjean smiled ruefully at her. "I took a loaf of bread to feed those seven children. It was winter and there was no work to be found."

"How terrible!" Fantine whispered, remembering now how close she and Cosette had come to this sort of dire situation. "But to go to prison, for such a thing as bread! How long did you have to stay there?"

"I was given five years in the galleys, but I tried to escape several times," he said. "It all added up to nineteen years."

Fantine hissed this mention of time. She knew that she herself was turning twenty-seven that year, and in comparison to this the span of two decades seemed too large a fraction to properly comprehend. "Then what happened once you left the galleys?"

"I sought work, and stopped in Digne briefly. There I met the Bishop of that town." Jean Valjean's tone was reverent when he spoke again. "He was more than a bishop; he was a saint."

"What did he do?" Fantine asked after a moment.

"He called me a friend and a brother," Jean Valjean said. "After this, I eventually I came to Montreuil-sur-mer and made my living there."

Her brow furrowed as she took in this information. Now the tale made sense to her save for one last detail. "But if you already went to prison, why are the police after you again?"

He looked down. "I broke my parole, and I also robbed a little Savoyard. Unlike you and Cosette, I am far from an innocent."

Fantine was silent as she sat on a stone and regarded Jean Valjean. There was no doubt that he was speaking the truth, but somehow it seemed as middling as a tower of blocks or a mound of dirt when she placed this narrative side by side with what she _did_ know of him: his goodness to her, the high regard with which the nuns, Fauchelevent, and so many others spoke of him, and everything he had done for the town. Even so, could she truly trust him?

When she looked at him again, she realized that he was deep in thought; perhaps he was not watching the road but he saw before him the galleys, or Digne, or perhaps a cramped hearth at a village she would never see. Somehow the thought brought before her own sight a memory of a crackling stove and of Tholomyes' voice in the dead of winter. '_I never told anyone about that," _she realized. Who was she to judge, if she had something to conceal?

She primly smoothed down her skirt. "Monsieur, I'm not like Sister Simplice. I've lied too, just like everyone else, and it's awful since you thought I was honest," she said slowly. She smiled weakly when Jean Valjean looked at her. "I've hidden the truth too, about me and Cosette. I said her father was gone, but I never said 'where'. I was never a widow or an honest woman, as some people would say. I lived with her father for just about two or three years in Paris, then he left for his hometown. He never wrote back, never sent any help even when I asked."

Jean Valjean's expression was sympathetic. "I feel that it was through no fault of your own."

Fantine laughed bitterly. "I was _young_, and no one told me to do anything better. No father, no mother, no brothers or sisters, and I don't think my friends or the ladies I knew then could have helped me much." She looked over her shoulder to where Cosette was still sleeping. Heaven forbid that her sweet little girl meet a similar fate. "I've lied to several honest people. That is also very bad. You stole bread to care for someone, but I only lied since I didn't want people to think ill of me or Cosette. I don't know if one is better than the other anymore."

Jean Valjean nodded slowly. "It is not for either of us to judge." He looked up at the sky, which was growing light. "We can rest for a while, and then we move again. We cannot hope to catch any coach or diligence till we're at least a day away. The police will be on the alert."

"Cosette will get tired."

"I'll carry her."

Fantine smiled as she got to her feet. "You're a good man. I think you always were. Thank you," she said before going to curl up beside her daughter. For a long while she listened with her eyes closed for any sign of their benefactor leaving, but eventually the heat of the day and exhaustion lulled her into a mercifully dreamless sleep.

This was how a sort of easy peace began to form between them, helped along by Cosette's good cheer. It was a hard trek, with nights spent standing watch as two would sleep in a hollow or in a dry ditch, and days spent begging for food or searching for roots and water to eat. As they travelled northwards, Jean Valjean sometimes pointed out animals or old landmarks. Fantine sang ditties and ballads she'd learned in Paris. Cosette asked a myriad of questions or chased after birds. They rarely told stories; Jean Valjean did not like to speak of them and Fantine claimed she hardly knew any.

One day, when they had been trekking for just over a week, Fantine wandered into the woods to look for something to eat. Jean Valjean and Cosette were resting in a nearby glen. Fantine had gone a good way from them when suddenly her foot caught on a wayward root. In a moment she was sprawled in the mud, almost unable to move for the fiery pain in her left ankle. '_Oh Lord, no, no, please,' _she begged, knowing somehow that she had twisted it. She tried to raise herself to her feet but only fell down again, all the while biting back a cry of agony.

Before she could make another attempt, she heard footsteps in the woods followed by a high pitched giggle. "Ponine! Come back here!" a little girl's voice shouted. In a few moments, a child dressed in a plain calico smock ran into the clearing. She looked to be about Cosette's age, or perhaps a little younger since she was shorter. She was thin but neat and clean, with her long raven hair done up in two braids. Yet her manner was nervous as she ran through the glen, clearly in search of someone. "Ponine, stop hiding, where are you?"

Fantine managed to raise herself to a sitting position. "Who are you looking for?" she called to the child.

The little girl turned and screamed with fright when she saw Fantine. Suddenly another girl rushed in, clearly startled by the first child's shrieks. "Zelma! What happened?" she asked as she grabbed her sister. She nearly jumped when she saw Fantine but she quickly regained her composure. "Oh you silly, it's only a lady!" she scolded.

Fantine wiped some mud off her face. "I'm sorry to have scared your sister," she said to the second girl. "I've only had a little fall."

The older child bit her lip as she looked Fantine over. She was dressed in a pink gown with slightly faded lace, and she had a white ribbon that kept her auburn hair away from her face. "Are you lost?"

"Not really," Fantine said. "I'm hurt though, and I need someone to help me, or have a look at my leg."

"Papa could help," the girl with darker hair said.

"Papa is sleeping and he'll be angry if we wake him up," her sister chided. "Maybe we'll ask Maman what we can do," she told Fantine.

Before Fantine could say anything, more footsteps sounded through the woods. "Maman!" Cosette shouted as she sprinted ahead of Jean Valjean and launched herself into her mother's arms. "Are you hurt?" she asked.

"I only tripped," Fantine said reassuringly, but she dared to give Jean Valjean a worried smile. "I need help standing up."

"We need to get your ankle bound up," Jean Valjean said as he took off his scarf.

In the meantime Cosette had noticed the two other girls in the clearing. "Who are you?" she asked.

"I'm Eponine, and this is my little sister Azelma," the older of the girls said proudly, making sure to put emphasis on their full names. "What's your name?"

"Cosette."

"It's a funny name," Azelma said in a breathy whisper.

Something about the little strangers' names made Fantine start. '_Where have I heard those before?' _she wondered as she tried to stand up, only to end up stumbling and having to catch Jean Valjean's shoulder. "I don't think I can walk very far," she said through gritted teeth.

Jean Valjean nodded to her and then looked to Eponine. "Mademoiselle, do you live near here?"

"No, we're only passing by," Eponine said. "If you want you can talk to our Maman or Papa if it's something very important."

"It is. Can you show us the way?" Jean Valjean asked.

Azelma looked to her sister. "Papa is sleeping you said-"

"They asked," Eponine replied in a tone that made it clear that she was not to be contradicted. "It's not far away, let's go!"

Cosette lost no time in racing after the girls, clearly happy to finally see someone her age. Fantine winced as she managed to take a step with Jean Valjean supporting her injured side. Her eyes watered with every move, and she was almost faint by the time she caught sight of a large and badly painted wagon half-hidden by some large trees. A rather thin nag was tied up nearby and chewing on some old hay. A man and a woman were arguing near the wagon; the man had a pipe in his mouth and was leaning against a bare tree while the woman was seated on a rickety stool. The man was of a spare build, with graying hair that escaped his knitted cap and teeth that were beginning to yellow. He had a prickly and foreboding air, especially when his brow knitted with indignation at his spouse's words.

Yet it was not the man, but the woman who made Fantine pale and tug Jean Valjean's arm. The woman, though she had not seen her in a number of years, still loomed large in Fantine's memory. '_What has driven the Thenardiers to this?' _she wondered. Had the winter been so harsh so as to drive them out of their own inn?

Mme. Thenardier was rapidly growing red in the face as she listened to her husband's imprecations, but her furious look softened as soon as she caught sight of her own children running up to her. "Where have you two treasures been?" she crooned as she lumbered over to the girls. She stopped when she saw Cosette, then Jean Valjean and Fantine. "Are you lost?"

'_She does not recognize me,' _Fantine realized. "We were travelling and I met a little mishap. Your daughters found us in the wounds and said we could get help here."

"We're not doctors," Mme. Thenardier said.

"Maman, don't you and Papa have something?" Azelma asked, tugging on her mother's skirt.

"It's only to bind it up with," Mme. Thenardier said, gesturing to Fantine's injured foot. She looked to her husband, who was watching them intently. "Do we have anything of it left?"

"It's over by the baskets. You fetch it yourself, Lisette," M. Thenardier said. He rubbed his hands and straightened up as he went to Jean Valjean and Fantine. "It's a good thing my girls are so clever and kind; who knows what could have become of you in these horrible woods," he said as he showed Fantine to the rickety stool.

"It's a good thing I didn't fall too far away," Fantine said, trying not to bristle at his wheedling words. She looked to where Cosette had somehow joined the Thenardier girls as they were playing with their dolls. "Are they your only children?"

"There's another brat inside," M. Thenardier said dismissively. He extinguished his pipe as his wife returned with a half-empty bottle of salve and some rags. "What brings your family so far into the woods Monsieur—"

"Fabre. Urbain Fabre," Jean Valjean said briskly. "I'm travelling with my daughter and her child."

"Ah a child who is a prop for her father's old age," M. Thenardier said. "Is there a Madame Fabre?"

Jean Valjean smiled ruefully. "There was, twenty-seven years ago."

M. Thenardier bowed almost sympathetically before he watched Fantine remove her worn out shoes. "And where have you Fabres come from?"

"Toulouse," Fantine blurted out. She paused, realizing now the possible error of this. "At first; we've been travelling a fair bit."

"And where are you going?"

"Paris," Fantine said firmly, daring to catch Jean Valjean's wary look. '_I hope he agrees to it,' _she thought before looking to where Thenardier was putting some salve on a bandage. "What about you and your family Monsieur-"

"Thenardier," the man said. "Nicolas Thenardier. It's doubly lucky that my little ones saw you. It seems as if it is our good fortune for our families to travel together, Mademoiselle."


	8. Chapter 8

_A/N: Thanks to everyone, and even to the guest reviewer!_

**Chapter 8: To Become Parisian Once More**

Although Fantine had certainly not expected to find the Thenardiers living in luxury, the state of their cart was nothing short of appalling. '_Like a hovel set on wheels!' _she thought even as she tried to make herself comfortable on a wobbly seat while trying to rub away the ache in her twisted ankle. It seemed as if the family had thrown whatever they could into bundles and baskets and then shoved the entire mess into the cart. It seemed as if the youngest child, a scrawny boy of about three years, had not been spared this treatment, for he had to make do with a worn out basket in a corner for a bed and two sticks for his playthings.

"Oh you poor little boy," Fantine crooned as she picked him up to wipe his face. She sighed when she saw that he was sucking his grimy thumb. "What is his name?" she asked his mother, who was darning one of her blouses.

Mme. Thenardier grunted as she looked up from her work. "I can't decide on one."

"How do you call him then?" Fantine asked curiously.

Mme. Thenardier shrugged. "Boy or brat, it doesn't matter. He doesn't heed me or stop crying." She looked out to where her husband was still talking to Jean Valjean while the three little girls were now playing with some old dolls in a makeshift bower. "So you go by Mademoiselle Fabre. What about your child's father?"

"Gone. His family wouldn't let me keep the name anyway in his absence," Fantine replied.

"That is odd," Mme. Thenardier said. "You aren't in mourning?"

"It was a long time ago," Fantine said. '_If Felix had actually passed on, God forbid, I would not have to wear black or anything for him anymore by this time,' _she realized. For a moment she wondered what Felix would be up to this winter. Certainly he was doing well in Toulouse, where it was warmer and he had the company of those who accepted him and would care for him. Nevertheless this was only a guess, for it was highly possible that the years could have been equally unkind to him.

Before Fantine could descend too far into this rather sordid reverie she saw the child in her lap begin to squirm. "Maman! Maman!" the boy shouted as he reached for Mme. Thenardier.

"Quiet!" Mme. Thenardier snapped, brandishing the soup ladle at the boy. The child started at the sound before cringing and then hiding his face in Fantine's dress.

"Maybe I ought to let him play with the others," Fantine suggested. Before she could inch over to let the boy out of the cart, suddenly the child cried out and pointed to where M. Thenardier had just made his appearance at the rear of the cart.

M. Thenardier rolled his eyes at the boy before looking to his wife. "Can't you keep your brat clean? Someone might think that we are harbouring an urchin!"

"If he wants to look like one of those _gavroches_, that isn't my fault," Mme. Thenardier muttered.

The former innkeeper spat on the ground. "Well get the girls inside." He looked at Fantine with a smile that was intended to be kindly but succeeded only in being chilling. "Have you got friends or anyone to stay with in Paris?"

Fantine's mouth went dry as she tried to rack her brains for any address she could name. "At the Estrapade, near the Pantheon," she stammered out. '_Why did I mention Dahlia's address?' _she wondered incredulously.

The Thenardiers exchanged quizzical looks before M. Thenardier had to step aside to let his daughters clamber into the cart. M. Thenardier looked to Jean Valjean, who had just swung Cosette onto his shoulders. "I'll need twenty-five francs for you to travel with us."

Jean Valjean started at this. "For what expenses?"

"I'm not feeding my children out of the woods for the duration of our journey! What kind of father would I be if I didn't allow them to get decent food at an inn from time to time?" Thenardier said, sounding affronted at the question.

'_Do we have twenty-five francs?' _Fantine wondered. She hesitated to search through her carpetbag, which Jean Valjean had brought over a few minutes ago. Much to her surprise she saw her companion reach into his coat pocket and count out five coins which he thrust into Thenardier's hands. The man pocketed the coins immediately before going to hitch the horse again to the wagon.

Fantine shifted to let Cosette inch in next to her. "You didn't have to," she said to Jean Vajean.

"A small sacrifice," Jean Valjean muttered gruffly, gesturing first to her swollen ankle and then the gathering clouds overhead.

Fantine sighed deeply even as she could smell water in the air. She kept an arm around Cosette so she would not be jostled as the wagon lurched its way back to the northward road. A few minutes later cold rain slashed through the sky, forcing Mme. Thenardier to close off the cart with rough cloths while the rest of the travellers huddled towards the middle.

At length Eponine flopped on the floor and sighed dramatically. "Are we in Paris yet?"

"In a little while, treasure," said. "How are we going to get in?" she asked her husband.

M. Thenardier grunted as he looked back from where he was driving the cart. "Through one of those barrieres...the one at the north, the Barriere du Monceau."

Fantine tried not to frown at the mention of this place, knowing that its environs were quite far from the neighbourhood she had given as her supposed address. "From there, where will you go?"

M. Thenardier gave her a suspicious look. "We have our own business to tend to."

"Papa, are we going to have a nice, grand house like the ladies were talking about?" Eponine asked, jumping up to tap her father on his shoulder.

"You keep quiet and that big house will come soon enough," M. Thenardier chided, pulling on the horse's reins. "Stop asking so many questions!"

Eponine scooted away from her father and picked up her doll. Cosette picked up another doll from the cart's floor and went to sit next to the girl. "We can play that they are grand ladies first," she offered.

Eponine frowned. "Not ladies, but little princesses. You, Zelma and I can be big princesses."

"What about the baby?" Cosette asked, gesturing to Eponine's little brother, who was noisily banging his two sticks together.

Eponine glanced dismissively at her sibling. "Maybe he's the little dragon guarding the princesses."

"How can there be a dragon if there's no one to save the princesses?" Cosette asked.

"That's why there are _big_ princesses, to stop the dragon!" Eponine said cheerily.

"Such noisy children!" Mme. Thenardier scolded even as she was unable to keep Azelma from wriggling off her lap to join in the game. "What am I going to do with them?"

In the meantime Cosette tugged on Jean Valjean's sleeve. "Can you be the keeper of the castle?"

"What should I do as the keeper?" Jean Valjean asked warmly.

"Make sure the dragon doesn't come for us too!" Cosette exclaimed.

"If he's the keeper, then what are Papa, Maman, and your Maman?" Azelma asked.

"I'll be the good fairy," Fantine said, hoping to intervene before the Thenardier girls could disturb their parents too much with their play. "That's what she's called in those stories, Cosette?"

Cosette nodded. "She's the fairy godmother." She found some ribbon that had lain abandoned in a basket and knotted it together. "Here's a crown, Maman!"

Fantine had to keep a dignified face as she let her daughter 'crown' her before they could properly begin their game. It hardly seemed to matter that there was very little space to move around and that most of the time the little girls and the tiny boy just wound up climbing all over her or Jean Valjean. In fact all of them were surprised when at last M. Thenardier declared that he had enough of travelling for an hour, and decreed that they all should have lunch at a small roadside inn.

Jean Valjean seemed to take this news with some trepidation, for he hesitated to follow them into the inn until Cosette pulled him into the doorway. "Will you be safe travelling with the Thenardiers?" he asked Fantine in an undertone as they took seats a little away from the Thenardier family.

Fantine shook her head, knowing already what he had in mind. "They frighten me," she confessed. "Not the children of course, but the innkeeper man and his wife. I've met them before, on my way to Paris so long ago."

Jean Valjean ran a hand through his white hair. "Once you are in Paris, you and Cosette can find any address you wish. You need not stay with them."

'_Something tells me that I will not be able to get away so easily,' _Fantine wanted to say but she did not dare voice this out here in the taproom. "Maybe there is some other way to get into Paris that does not involve those barrieres," she said. Surely she would remember if there was another way in. "The river?"

"It will be a long detour from the Barriere du Monceau to reach the quays near the Route de Versailles," Jean Valjean said tersely. "A boatman will be needed-"

"A boatman! What sort of cruise will that be in this weather?" M. Thenardier chimed in as he sauntered up with two large tankards of beer.

"It's for business. Papa used to need it," Fantine said cheerily. She saw Jean Valjean's tense look relax momentarily at this evasion.

"It's a good way to catch one's death," M. Thenardier declared. "You never said you were in the business of boating," he said pointedly to Valjean.

"I used to sell melons. It is sometimes easier to transport them by water," Jean Valjean explained.

Fantine stared into her tankard of beer, afraid that if she met M. Thenardier's eyes that he would catch on to this deception. "We need to make arrangements as early as now."

"Yes since you good folk already have lodging," M. Thenardier said sourly before draining one of the tankards he'd brought.

After a hurried and mostly silent lunch this group continued on their way to Paris. It was mid-afternoon by the time they arrived at the Barriere du Monceau. The sentry there eyed their cart sceptically. "Where did you come from?" he asked M. Thenardier.

"Livry," the innkeeper said. "Our friends here came from-"

"Chelles," Fantine chimed in, taking care to keep Jean Valjean out of sight. '_Please don't let them bring out a piece of paper,' _she begged silently as she watched the sentry pacing in front of the cart. She could feel both Cosette as well as the little Thenardier boy pressed against her, as if trying to hide as well. It was only with some difficulty that she managed to place her arms around both trembling children in an attempt to reassure them. She also saw that Azelma was hiding behind her mother, but Eponine tried to peer out of the cart before Mme. Thenardier snapped at her to stay inside.

M. Thenardier eyed the guards warily as they began to whisper among themselves. "Is everything in order?" he asked.

"Do any of you have passports?" one of the guards asked.

The head sentry turned to cuff him. "No one needs a passport when coming from Livry or Chelles." He waved the cart forward. "Welcome to Paris."

Fantine had to refrain from crossing herself as the cart lumbered down the boulevard towards the Rue Rumfort. Was it possible that no one was searching for her and Jean Valjean, or had Inspector Javert given up the chase? Suddenly she felt Mme. Thenardier's large hand close around her own thin wrist. "You aren't from Chelles," the older woman growled.

Fantine looked Mme. Thenardier in the face. "They don't have to know-"

"So Mademoiselle Fabre, which way to the Estrapade?" M. Thenardier called.

It took Fantine a moment to remember that the former innkeeper was addressing her "Straight on down till the Place du Madeleine, then we'll take a right till we're at the Place de Louis XVI," she said. The sight of the increasingly familiar streets was now more disconcerting than comforting, for it had been so long till she'd seen such narrow lanes filled with so many people. '_I'll get used to it again by and by,' _she told herself over and over as the wagon drove down the Rue Jacob, then south towards the Odeon, the Place Saint-Michel, and then at last to the crowded classical vista that was the Place du Pantheon.

"What house are we looking for?" Jean Valjean asked.

"A two-floor brown house on the Estrapade," Fantine replied. "The roof has old gray shingles."

"Maman, look!" Cosette shouted, pointing to a carriage rattling by. "Where are they going?"

"Probably to their own home," Fantine said, catching a glimpse of a sharp looking woman of advanced years and a young boy seated in the carriage. She looked about in vain for the residence in question, but found herself staring at a row of houses all of roughly the same height. "They must have painted the place!" she exclaimed as she got out of the wagon.

"What, you mean to knock on every door?" M. Thenardier called to her.

Fantine shook her head as she looked about, trying to remember just how far her friend's home had been from the street corner. '_It might be six or seven, on the right,' _she decided as she counted out the houses, and then went to knock on the sixth door.

This door opened to reveal a tired looking woman who could easily have been about the age of fifty. "Monsieur is not receiving any visitors today," she said as she rubbed her temples. On closer inspection it seemed as if the left side of her face was taut and pink, as if she had been burned a year or so ago.

"Madame, I'm not looking for a Monsieur. I'm looking for a lady named Dahlia," Fantine said. "She used to live here."

The woman blinked blearily at this name and looked Fantine over from head to toe. "La Blonde?"

At the sound of this old nickname, Fantine nearly started. "How did you know my name?"

The woman snorted and looked as if she was about to wipe away a tear. "I didn't think you'd remember me. Dahlia has been gone a year, but I stayed on. As always."

Fantine's jaw dropped as she realized who was facing her. "Zephine? What has happened to you?"


	9. Chapter 9

_A/N: A bit more love for this fic, please? _

**Chapter 9: The Lodgers At the Estrapade**

If there was one thing that had not changed about Zephine it was her predilection for lodging on the second floor. "It's a nice little place, and not bad for thirty francs a year," Zephine explained in a very embarrassed voice when she admitted Fantine and the older Thenardiers to her small room. The children remained playing on the first floor under Jean Valjean's watchful eye.

"Pooh, what a hole! I had thought to see a house," M. Thenardier grumbled as he took the only armchair in the room. "You could fit two of these holes in our bedchamber!" he told his wife.

Fantine looked to Mme. Thenardier, who merely gave an indolent shrug, and then settled herself on the least comfortable seat atop a chest of drawers. She dearly wished for something to support her now aching ankle, but settled for simply resting her foot on a drawer handle. _'This place is hardly a hole,' _she wanted to say. There was a proper bed in an alcove, a good fire in a stove, cheery curtains in the window, and a large table that was probably for her friend's sewing work. She glanced at Zephine, who was opening the window for some air. The afternoon light made the burn on Zephine's face stand out even more starkly than before, and Fantine had to look away before anyone could see her shudder. "I'm sorry about Dahlia. I wish I'd known," she finally said.

A half-smile crossed Zephine's face. "I heard you left Paris. I thought Dahlia had too till we became neighbours by accident."

"You two were always close," Fantine pointed out.

Zephine merely laughed harshly. "At least I was the one who could be here at the end. She had that coughing, wasting sort of illness." She smiled uneasily at the Thenardiers. "Family by any chance?"

"We only met on the road," Mme. Thenardier said stiffly.

"We decided to travel together," Fantine supplied before the Thenardiers could say anything more. "The old man is actually my father," she added.

Zephine nodded slowly. "One of those girls there-" she began.

"Yes. My daughter. You remember her?" Fantine said quickly.

"Of course. She was such a beautiful little thing the last time I saw you both. And now almost a little lady!" Zephine remarked. "The three others are yours?" she asked the Thenardiers.

"So she tells me," M. Thenardier guffawed as he leaned back in his seat.

Fantine had to keep a straight face despite her companion's rudeness to his wife. "Are there any other rooms that can be leased in this house?"

Zephine gestured to the floor. "There's a nice one downstairs, next to the concierge's room."

"What about the other rooms on this floor?" Fantine asked.

"A musician who might move out soon, a writer, and then there's Monsieur the swellest of the lot," Zephine said. "Actually he's a student but we all call him Monsieur here to tease him."

M. Thenardier scoffed audibly. "These bohemians! I am doubly certain that I won't have my family under the same roof with such a disreputable sort." He gave Fantine a withering look. "You said this was a good place, Mademoiselle Fabre."

"It's safe and snug," Fantine argued weakly. She could see Zephine's eyes narrow as she pursed her lips, just the way she once did when dealing with some half-hearted excuses from her former lover Fameuil. '_She knows I never had any other name than Fantine and that I have no father either,' _she recalled.

"But too small for three children," Zephine said primly. She looked at Thenardier and smiled sweetly. "There might be nicer places; there's the Hotel de la Porte-Saint-Jacques."

"Is it far from here?"

"No, just a few streets away."

Fantine noticed Mme. Thenardier shifting in her seat as if to protest this, but the older woman simply remained silent. '_Perhaps she might want a different address,' _she thought. She waited for M. Thenardier to excuse himself on the pretext of seeking the privy before she looked at Mme. Thenardier again. "Did you want to go elsewhere?"

Mme. Thenardier sniffed. "As long as the place is big enough for my girls."

"This quartier isn't the place for large houses on a few sous. You'd know that too, Fantine," Zephine said wryly, even as she seemed to be studying her former friend. Perhaps she liked what she saw, since her voice was a little more earnest when she spoke again. "Will you stay here?"

"I shall have to ask my father," Fantine replied. The words were becoming easier to say, especially when she didn't have to think too much about what it meant. '_Will he want to stay? What if he still wants to go elsewhere?' _she wondered as she hobbled downstairs, taking care to give M. Thenardier some room to pass her on the stairs. She saw that all the children had fallen asleep on the floor near a stove: the two Thenardier girls were curled up together, while their brother was sprawled across their feet. As for Cosette, she was using Jean Valjean's shin as a pillow instead of the carpetbag next to them.

Jean Valjean signed for Fantine to be quiet. "How is your friend?" he whispered.

"Haven't asked yet," Fantine said. She fisted her hands in her skirt, wondering how to phrase her question without sounding improper. "There's a room here, that's big enough for a family to stay in."

Jean Valjean smiled at her kindly. "Fantine, I cannot."

"There's nothing wrong with it, if people think you're my grandfather," Fantine said.

"It is not safe for you and Cosette. There might still be a search for me," Jean Valjean said.

Fantine shook her head. "There has to be some way! Maybe someday they will stop looking for you."

Jean Valjean looked down. "That would only be a hope."

Just then the older Thenardiers came down the stairs, arguing loudly. At the sounds of their parents' voices, the three Thenardier children quickly woke and scrambled to their feet. "Maman, what's happening?" Eponine asked.

"We're going to our new home, my dear," Mme. Thenardier said as she took Eponine's arm. "Come on, keep up!"

Cosette, having been woken by this sudden commotion, let out a surprised cry as she ran to her playmates. "Where are you going?"

Mme. Thenardier stopped on seeing Cosette, and how Eponine seemed to hesitate at the sight of the other girl. "Well go say goodbye to each other; Cosette will be staying here with her mother," she told her own daughter.

"Maybe you can come here again and play," Cosette said to Eponine.

"If we have a nice house, you should come and see it too," Eponine said.

Cosette nodded before hugging Eponine, and then Azelma before the girls were scooped up by their parents. "Bye! See you soon!"

Just as Fantine took Cosette by her shoulders, she realized that the little Thenardier boy was trying to hang on to Mme. Thenardier's skirt, begging to be picked up. The woman cursed at him and kicked him aside, sending him to the floor screeching in pain.

"Madame!" Fantine shouted in shock as she ran to the sobbing child and picked him up just as the front door slammed. She tried to call out and then run after the Thenardiers, but to no avail; the family seemed to disappear in the crowds around the Place du Pantheon. She clasped the still wailing little boy to her chest in an attempt to soothe him and shield him from the now cold afternoon wind. '_How far can they get in the storm?' _she wondered as she looked up and saw the sky turning a vicious dark gray. She wrapped her shawl more tightly around the boy before trudging back to the house, all the while trying to bite back her own panic. What would she do if she had to care for this child as well?

When she returned to the house, she saw Zephine already shutting the windows against the impending ill weather while Jean Valjean was lighting an old lamp. Cosette had already retrieved her book from the carpetbag and was poring over the very dog-eared pages. "Maman, can he stay with us?" she asked when she saw Fantine and the small Thenardier boy.

"I think he _has_ to," Zephine chimed in. "Better with you than with that woman."

"He doesn't even have a name," Fantine said.

"Ponine said that sometimes his father calls him a _gavroche_," Cosette reported.

"We can't call him that," Fantine said disapprovingly. "Perhaps you should name him," she said to Jean Valjean, who seemed to have lapsed in a melancholy.

Jean Valjean looked at the little boy, who had calmed down enough to start sucking his thumb. "The name 'Victor' would suit him," he said as he stroked the boy's hair to further soothe him.

"Then Victor it is," Fantine said. '_Maybe I can have him and Cosette baptized at the same time,' _she thought, remembering that Cosette had been taking catechism lessons from Sister Simplice before their abrupt departure. She rubbed her hands together for warmth as she heard rain beginning to howl outside the house. She also noticed that Zephine was shivering too even if she was right next to the candle. Something about the way the flickering light fell on Zephine's face moved Fantine such that she couldn't resist speaking. "What happened?"

"An accident," Zephine said flatly as she put the candle further away from her.

"Oh how terrible!"

"It was long ago, don't mention it," Zephine muttered before going back upstairs to her own room.


	10. Chapter 10

_A/N: Thanks to those who've stayed with this story so far!_

**Chapter 10: A Situation in Short Order**

Fantine knew that it was imperative that she 'get their situation together', which meant not only furnishing the small room but also seeking gainful employment. "You'll find hard going of it," Zephine warned later that evening when Fantine asked for a word or two on possible workplaces. "No one wants rusty services."

Fantine felt her face burn at this jibe; she had not been a proper needlewoman for some years now. "Better than none, so I'll try my chances!"

So the very next morning, despite the bitter cold weather and the fact that it was a Sunday, Fantine put on her warmest clothes and bound up her still tender ankle. For her breakfast, she pocketed two crusts of bread. '_I can eat just as well while walking,' _she decided as she headed to the neighbourhood of the Place de l'Odeon. Although she was sure there were places closer by, in the environs of Saint-Etienne and the Polytechnique, this was Zephine's province. Fantine knew better than to trod on the train of a queen, however self-styled. '_Anyway there are always costumes and little things to be done at the theater, Sunday or not,' _she reassured herself. Who knew, perhaps some prima donna or patroness would ask for her services, and she would be on her way to becoming someone's dressmaker?

However the Odeon and its neighbours were still slumbering when she arrived; the backdoor of the theater was closed, the square was empty, and only two carriages passed by in the span of ten minutes. "Why does this part of Paris keep a different clock?" Fantine asked herself exasperatedly. The habit of rising late had not bothered her too much when she was seventeen and blissful, but were vexing now that she was twenty-five and careworn. She pulled her sleeves more tightly over her gloves, anxious to better cover her wrists against the chill lest she feel her own blood freeze in her veins.

As she looked around, wondering if she should head down the Rue Racine, the Rue de Voltaire or the Rue de l'Odeon, or perhaps go instead towards the Rue de Conde, she heard a friendly shout in the square. "Mademoiselle Fantine!" This voice belonged to an elderly man who was dressed a little like a peasant, that is to say clean but with some of the soil still lingering in his clothing. He limped, as if one of his knees had gone a little stiff.

Fantine laughed when she recognized this man. "Father Fauchelevent!"

Fauchelevent made a gracious bow. "It's good of you to remember me! What are you doing all the way here in Paris? And all alone?"

Fantine shook her head. "I brought my little girl with me. Monsieur Valjean-I mean, Monsieur Madeleine the mayor is with me too."

"What, him too!" Fauchelevent said. "What a terrible winter this is! Why did you leave that old town?"

"It's a terrible story," Fantine replied, unsure how to explain the circumstances of the sudden flight from Montreuil-sur-mer. It occurred to her then that there was a serious question she had yet to address: that of Jean Valjean's difficulty. "Father Fauchelevent, you're the very friend we need now in Paris. Monsieur Madeleine needs help."

"Help him! I'd like nothing better than to do that!" Fauchelevent cried. "Where are you staying?"

"At the Estrapade."

"Ah that is some way back. I will go with you; it is a bit out of the usual path back to the convent but as long as I am back by dark the prioress will not mind. I am only out on errands today since the vocal mothers and the claustral sisters are a little ill. I'm a gardener there at Picpus, if you remember."

Fantine nodded, though no recollection of this fact sprung to mind. "Where are you going?"

"I'm making a visit to the Church of Saint-Sulpice."

Fantine smiled at the mention of this church for it was in a neighbourhood she was also familiar with. "I've been there."

"It's good you know the place," Fauchelevent answered cheerily. "I am a friend of the warden. It is a lovely church; now if only those kind Lazarines could see it!"

This mention of her old friends Sister Simplice and Sister Perpetue brought a slight pang into Fantine's chest, but she bravely smiled instead. "Maybe I will tell them about it someday," she said.

It was not a long walk to the Place Saint Sulpice, even though more than once Fantine deliberately slowed her steps to allow the stubborn Fauchelevent to catch up. Eventually she let him lean on her arm, and it was in this manner that they finally came in sight of this church. The morning Mass had just concluded, so the square was crowded, but nevertheless Fantine and Fauchelevent had little trouble entering the church nave. Fauchelevent found a place in the rear, where he crossed himself and began to mutter a few prayers.

As for Fantine, she remained a little way off and closed her eyes, but prayer was the last thing on her mind. '_Zephine, Dahlia, and I used to go here on Sundays because of Listolier,' _she thought. For some reason this young man had been the only real churchgoing one of their double quartet, and not even Dahlia's cajoling or the jibes of Favourite, Tholomyes, Blacheville, and Fameuil could sway him from this habit. Dahlia made the concession of meeting Listolier here after Sunday mass, in order to make the best of their one shared free day. It happened so often such that Fantine could almost hear her friend's giggles in the arches alongside the nave, or see her smile brighten at the sight of her beloved. In those days Dahlia had been beautiful, and judging perhaps from Zephine's contemptuous tone, had remained almost that way to the very end.

A plaintive, half-choked sound like that of a man weeping drew Fantine out of this delightful haze of memory, and she turned to see a bowed figure half-concealed in the shadow of a pillar. He did not seem particularly old, but he was worn by care and the deepest grief that tore his breath from his throat in heart wrenching sobs. Fantine realized that this unfortunate had his eyes fixed on a young boy seated outside the chapel of the Virgin. This boy of about twelve or thirteen years was placid and shy, with black hair and amiable features that promised to turn out handsome. '_Why doesn't the gentleman go to him?' _Fantine wondered, now moved almost to tears at this sight. Before she could move she saw another man, clearly the churchwarden, approach the gentleman behind the pillar. They seemed to exchange a few words before they stood together in the same attitude of sad and longing contemplation, up until the boy started at the sight of a severe, almost snappish looking woman emerging from the chapel. This lady looked about before she and the boy quitted the area, hardly looking about for anyone else.

"Monsieur Mabeuf has a guest," Fauchelevent remarked as he limped over to Fantine. "It is a lay confessional of sorts; what one cannot tell the cure, one can always tell the warden," he mused before waving to the warden. "Good morning Monsieur Mabeuf!"

The warden bid goodbye to his friend before going to Fauchelevent and Fantine. "Good to see you Fauchelevent," he greeted the old gardener heartily. He bowed courteously to Fantine. "A relation of his, no doubt, Mademoiselle?"

Fauchelevent shook his head. "Mademoiselle Fantine, may I introduce Monsieur Mabeuf," he said. "Mademoiselle has just arrived in Paris."

"Welcome to Saint-Sulpice," Mabeuf replied kindly. "Is there any way I can help you, Mademoiselle?"

Fantine paused to summon her courage; if she did not broach a certain query now the opportunity would be lost forever. "It's nothing to do with church, Monsieur. I'm looking about for a situation," she replied. "Not for me, since that could take care of itself I believe, but for a friend," she clarified when she saw Fauchelevent's confused look.

Mabeuf nodded though his eyes were sparkling with curiosity. "This is a church, Mademoiselle Fantine. It is not the usual place for employment."

"My friend isn't the usual gentleman either," Fantine said, feeling a strange rush of pride on saying these words. "He's a benefactor to me and my child, and a good man, a saint walking on this earth if there ever was one. He's of the retiring sort but he is still so helpful."

"You will never meet a more worthy man in France than Monsieur Madeleine," Fauchelevent chimed in. "He's learned, far more than I can say for this," he added, rapping his own head with his knuckles.

"A good hearted scholar," Mabeuf said. "Where is Monsieur Madeleine residing?"

"At the Estrapade," Fantine replied. As soon as she said this, she realized that there was a sudden difficulty that Fauchelevent's helpfulness now presented and that Mabeuf's solicitude made impossible to deny. "He's renting his room under the name Fabre, just to avoid some difficulty."

Fauchelevent stared at her for a moment but a sudden light of comprehension came into his eyes. "Madeleine was father to an entire town, but Fabre is your father and the grandfather of the girl," he finally pronounced. "See how good he is, not to expose Mademoiselle to undue questioning."

. "Will Monsieur Fabre be home later today?" Mabeuf asked.

"He will," Fantine said. "Thank you, Monsieur Mabeuf. You're far too kind." She quickly withdrew to let the men finish their own discussion on Fauchelevent's original errand, and also to give herself the time to ponder her own situation. '_Maybe I shall have better luck with finding something to do tomorrow,' _she resolved.

A quarter of an hour later, Fauchelevent and Fantine took their leave of the warden and made their way to the Estrapade. At the house they were greeted by childish laughter; Cosette and Victor were already up for the day and were playing on the floor. Jean Valjean was seated nearby with a book on his lap, but his attention was clearly on the two children. On the stairway, Zephine was chatting with a broad shouldered young man who seemed undisturbed by the fact that his striped yellow waistcoat seemed too thin and brash for the winter weather.

Zephine laughed when she saw Fantine. "Any success?"

"It's a bad day for sewing, but I met an old friend," Fantine said, indicating Fauchelevent.

Jean Valjean set his book aside and got to his feet while Fauchelevent hobbled forward. "What are you doing here?" Jean Valjean asked the gardener.

"What, don't you remember? You were the one who sent me to Paris!" Fauchelevent chortled before embracing Jean Valjean. "Mademoiselle and I have also a friend who can help you."

"The warden from Saint Sulpice wants to meet you," Fantine explained. "He's a good man who may help with finding some situation for you here in Paris."

Jean Valjean's expression was both stricken and incredulous. "What about for yourself?"

"I'm sure I can find a place. No one would want to go about naked this winter," Fantine said blithely, all the while aware of Zephine's mocking look.

"Better naked than unfashionable," the imposing young man quipped.

"Monsieur!" Zephine said reproachfully. "I thought I was the one you preferred."

"I will not be ungallant to a fellow lodger," the man said. "You must be Mademoiselle Fantine, Cosette's mother," he said, taking Fantine's hand to kiss it. "My name is Bahorel."

"A pleasure to meet you," Fantine said, feeling both tickled and discomfited by such chivalry. It did not help that Bahorel was clearly younger than either her or Zephine. She saw Fauchelevent draw Jean Valjean aside, clearly in an attempt to speak more about Mabeuf's visit. She took off her hat and her fichu before looking again to Bahorel. "I hear you are a student?"

"When I have the temper for it and when events allow me to," Bahorel replied gleefully.

"He comes from very far away, from outside Paris!" Cosette chirped as she tugged on Fantine's skirt. "It's further than Montreuil-sur-mer!"

"I'm from the Midi," Bahorel explained. He cocked his head as a carriage drew up to the door. "It's early for such grand callers."

Fantine snatched up her fichu again, but to her surprise the callers turned out to be the three Thenardier females. All of them seemed to have just thrown on velvet cloaks over the same dresses they had on since the day before. "Good morning Madame Thenardier. I didn't expect to see you and the girls so soon again," she greeted.

"They need dresses," Mme. Thenardier huffed, speaking to Fantine as well as Zephine. She stopped to ruffle Azelma's hair and retie Eponine's hair ribbon, but she did not even look at her little son. "The ones they have are not warm enough for winter."

"Where is Monsieur Thenardier?" Fantine asked.

"Speaking to some playwright friend of his," Mme. Thenardier muttered as she sat in the chair that Jean Valjean had occupied earlier. "I do not see why he has to go off and meet them, when they can very well call on our lodgings. They are far nicer."

'_Probably too lavish for them to keep for long,' _Fantine wondered worriedly. "Zephine, will you need some help?" she asked her housemate.

Zephine cast a cautious eye on the two Thenardier girls, who were pulling Cosette as well as Bahorel into some little game of their own. "Help me keep them still," she said before going upstairs to fetch her sewing supplies.

In the meantime Eponine stole up to Fantine and tugged on her sleeve. "Is there still breakfast here? I'm so hungry!" she whispered.

"Didn't you have anything to eat today?" Fantine asked as she searched her pockets for the remaining crust of bread.

"It wasn't enough," Eponine said as she took the piece of bread, broke it in half and scurried back to slip it to Azelma.

Little did Fantine know that this scene would be repeated, only in varying ways, over the coming years.


	11. Chapter 11

_A/N: Now that all the pieces are in place...let's fast forward. _

**Chapter 11: The Specter Changes Form**

Following this, matters fell into place well enough such that for a time there were hardly any events for the newly arrived quartet at the Estrapade. Mabeuf found a situation for Jean Valjean assisting him at Saint-Sulpice, while Fantine surprised everyone by acquiring a place at a milliner in the neighbourhood of Rue Val de Grace. Cosette became known as Euphrasie Fabre, and in due time she came to work alongside her mother at the shop. In the meantime, the little Thenardier boy was called Victor Fabre. Despite all of this, Zephine, Bahorel, and the Thenardier sisters still insisted on referring to them as Cosette and Gavroche, respectively. The purported Fabres lived easily this way for a number of years; the younger two were carefree, while the older pair was somewhat content for as long they remained unnoticed by certain elements.

The year 1830 brought about several unwelcome changes: Mabeuf's brother, the cure at Vernon, passed away in his sleep one June day. Owing to grief and a number of other crises, Mabeuf let go of his home at the Rue Mesieries and his duties as the warden of Saint-Sulpice. "I'd hand them to you, my friend, but a warden must be seen while his assistant may be hidden. I know it does not suit you," he told Jean Valjean by way of apology when he visited the Fabres at the Estrapade.

"I understand," Jean Valjean said solemnly. "In fact it would have been impossible for me to accept."

This had been said in Fantine's hearing, and thus she was greatly perturbed. After dinner she pulled him aside. "What do you mean by impossible?" she demanded.

"We cannot hide in this way for much longer," Jean Valjean said. "Look to the children."

This was enough to convince Fantine; it was becoming too difficult to house all four of them in a single room now that Cosette and Victor were both growing tall. Old Fauchelevent was gone too, and there was no one to vouch for them or provide succour. "What shall we do?" she asked.

"Remove," Jean Valjean said resignedly. "No one can remember the man of Saint-Sulpice."

It was decided. In a fortnight the Fabres removed to the quieter environs of the Rue Plumet. It was just as well, for the violent tempers of that July sent several bullets through the apartments at the Estrapade, thus forcing the last holdouts of the place including Zephine and Bahorel to seek lodgings elsewhere in the Latin Quartier.

One early afternoon just after lunch, about a year and a half since the Fabres settled at the Rue Plumet, Fantine happened to be knitting a shawl by the warmth of the small fireplace. Jean Valjean and Victor were in the back of the house making some repairs, all the while engaged in some quiet conversation. Fantine found herself smiling at this familiar hubbub; had it not been for young Victor, the rest of the family would probably pass days or weeks in near-silence. In the depths of her reverie, she almost did not notice when another figure entered the room. "What are you up to, Cosette?" she asked.

"Only a little sewing, Maman," Cosette said as she daintily set down her sewing basket as well as a handkerchief she'd been hemming. At sixteen going on seventeen, she was very far removed from that gawky child who'd left Montreuil-sur-mer. She had grown quite fair and enchanting, with rich brown hair that she wore in ringlets, lush lips that curved into a pure and sweet smile, and a profile that could put any of the Graces to shame. Her dark blue eyes were pensive but keen, often making her seem more gay than dreamy. "That shawl would look beautiful on you, Maman," she remarked.

"It's not for me. It's for the basket at the church of Saint Jacques du Haut Pas," Fantine replied. Some of the concerned parishioners took up a regular collection of old and new clothes to distribute to the beggars and rag-pickers of the area. Fantine's sense of refinement was now combined with an eye for economy, and thus she was sure that this shawl, as well as other garments she had previously sewn for this effort, would be greatly appreciated.

Cosette nodded as she began to thread her needle. Her fine fingers made easy work of embroidery, and in a matter of minutes the beginnings of a monogram graced a corner of the handkerchief. "I remember there were hardly enough things to give out on Christmas day," she said at length.

"It has not been a good year," Fantine murmured. For a moment her mind's eye had a terrible vision of her own hands pricked and scarred, while Cosette shivered and grew thin in this inclement weather. '_How many times we've come so close to that all those years ago!' _she thought.

Before Cosette could tie off the thread, two rapid knocks sounded on the front door. "I know who that is," Cosette said as she set aside her sewing and quickly walked into the front hall. "Hello Eponine! Why are you walking about alone?"

Fantine smiled in an effort to hide her worry when she saw the older Thenardier girl kicking off a pair of oversized and leaky shoes. Over the past years the Thenardier family had simply moved from one domestic misadventure to another, leaving behind a trail of abandoned lodgings, unpaid rent, and two more little sons that Mme. Thenardier had seemingly palmed off on another acquaintance. In such conditions, the young girls could only struggle to grow. Eponine now stood a few inches higher than Cosette, but she had also been imbued with a lankiness that was painfully emphasized by her ragged blouse and skirt. Her auburn hair was long and wavy, and easily tangled thanks to the inclement weather. She was tanned, with chapped lips and rough hands, but her dark brown eyes were bright with a wild vivacity that also showed through her raspy laughter.

Nevertheless Eponine still maintained some semblance of manners. "Good day Madame Fantine," she greeted as she rubbed her reddened fingers. "Oh I must sit by that fire for a moment!"

"No, stay as long as you need to," Fantine said. "Are you alone?"

Eponine nodded. "Papa is out; I'm running a bit of an errand for him."

"What about your mother and your sister?" Fantine asked.

Eponine shrugged. "They're at home. They're fine, Madame Fantine," she said.

"That's good. You girls can chat while I get something warm for all of us to drink," Fantine said as she got up to put the kettle on the stove in the kitchen as well as to fetch a little white bread. The latter was quite dear in price, but she could not abide the idea of either Cosette or Victor grinding their fine teeth on black bread.

As she cut some pieces of bread, she heard Victor hurrying in. "Are we having dinner early, Maman?" he asked in astonishment.

"No, we have a visitor," Fantine said as she craned her neck to look up at the boy fondly. At twelve, Victor was only beginning to attain a great height, but it was already evident that he had more hope of filling out nicely, or at least better than his sister was faring. He was cheery and impetuous, with a habit of wearing his reddish hair creeping down over his ears. He had recently been given an old pocket watch, and he prided on always having it showing over the top of his fob.

Victor cocked his head to listen to the chatter from the adjoining room. "It's only Eponine. Is Azelma with her?"

Fantine shook her head before cutting another slice for Victor and handing it to him. "Where is your grandfather?"

"Out at the back lodge," Victor replied. "He's still fixing something there."

"He'd better not take too long," Fantine said as she picked up two slices of bread and headed out across the narrow courtyard behind the house towards a squat building that was meant to be a porter's lodge. She sighed on seeing the darkened windows; for reasons that they always argued about, Jean Valjean insisted on sleeping here yet never kept a fire in these apartments. She knocked once on the door. "It's only Fantine."

Jean Valjean opened the door immediately. "Is everything well, Fantine?" he asked as he let her in.

"In the house, yes," Fantine said as she handed him a slice of bread. "Why don't you put a fire in here, or better yet, come inside the house?"

Jean Valjean sighed kindly. "I am accustomed to this."

Fantine shook her head. "Being accustomed to something doesn't always mean it's good for someone," she pointed out. She had to admit that Jean Valjean was stronger than most men his age, perhaps even stronger than most men as a whole. He was largely unchanged from their days at the Estrapade: his white hair showed no sign of thinning, his hands were steady, and his mind as sharp as ever, but Fantine knew better than to remain wholly confident in that fact. "I heated up some water in the kitchen. Will that convince you to come in then?"

"For a little while," he said before following her back towards the main house. He smiled proudly as he gestured to the newly laid paving stones that formed a path in the yard. "Victor took charge of laying these out."

"He's quick. Maybe he doesn't like books as much as Cosette does but nothing escapes his notice," Fantine agreed as they went into the kitchen. "I always worry we aren't doing enough for him, or even for Cosette. We've taught them to read, write, do sums and some other useful things, but it's not entirely enough for them to get on, or for Victor to get to the Sorbonne one day."

Jean Valjean nodded pensively. "We cannot send either of them away to school. It would not do to have a tutor come here, or to have a full time governess."

"Maybe we can find someone who can take them on for lessons during the day," Fantine suggested a little wistfully as she poured out two glasses of hot water for them. '_Some steady old gentleman who can be patient enough to teach Victor philosophy, and a fine lady who can teach Cosette about dancing and music,' _she thought. Yet where could such individuals be found, and even so, could they be trusted to remain discreet? "I'd ask Bahorel; he's a dear and Victor likes him very much but he's always at some business of his," she said.

"Perhaps he would know someone at the university," Jean Valjean suggested. He paused to take a sip of his drink. "What about Mabeuf?"

"Maybe. We can visit him at the Austerlitz and ask," Fantine said more brightly. "As for Cosette, well I know that Zephine and I can teach her, but it's not very much. And ever since Zephine stopped sewing, she's been a little peevish."

"You are hoping for someone like Sister Simpllice was," Jean Valjean said thoughtfully.

"Yes. Like her," Fantine replied, feeling a pang at the mention of their old friend. '_How is she doing after all this time? Is she well?' _she wondered. It had been impossible to write back to Montreuil-sur-mer, for one misplaced letter would doom them all. '_Yet there was nothing in the way of obituaries, ever, or Monsieur Valjean would have said so,' _she reminded herself even as she heard Cosette's footsteps approaching the kitchen. "What is it, darling?" she asked her daughter.

"Maman, Grandfather, may Victor and I go with Eponine to the Luxembourg?" Cosette asked, clasping her hands in a sweet and cajoling attitude. "It's only for a short promenade and we'll wrap up well against the cold, I promise!"

Fantine sighed as she looked outside; the afternoon was bright for January but the wind was brisk. '_Surely it can't do any harm,' _she decided. "Would you mind if we went with you?"

Cosette shook her head. "I'd like you to."

"Truly?" Jean Valjean said incredulously.

Cosette smiled. "We can go by Saint-Germain. There are lovely things I saw there. It's almost your birthday Maman, and you should have something. It's nearly also the Feast of the Three Kings, Grandfather, and we ought to be cheery."

"Let's go then," Fantine said, smiling at the thought of an unexpected shopping trip. She sighed as she heard Cosette race upstairs, presumably to get ready for their walk. "Monsieur Valjean, it's only for a bit of a walk. You know how much this means to Cosette and how much she hates being inside nowadays," she whispered.

"It's funny; last year when we'd suggest going on promenades, she'd want to go home right away," Jean Valjean pointed out.

Fantine shrugged. "You can go as a bourgeois grandfather, I'll go as a modest little matron, and no one will ask questions," she said. This was the most maddening facet about their enforced secrecy; they never could go out for long, and even so they never dared to act their ages or proper stations. '_Even in old days, Felix never used to hide me so!' _she thought petulantly. Sometimes, she wondered how it would be to speak to Jean Valjean differently, perhaps to drop the pretence that he was her relative. '_Does he ever wonder about that same thing too?' _she couldn't help asking herself.

Jean Valjean finished his drink of water before speaking again. "There have been several riots in the past month alone. Matters are playing out too dangerously again, Fantine," he said concernedly. "It's not just for Cosette I worry for now, but Victor."

"He has you to keep him safe."

"Yes, but I am an old man, and he will look to his friends more."

"But he will always come home to us, emeute or no," Fantine insisted. She clasped Jean Valjean's arm. "We cannot keep him inside forever, no more than we can shut away Cosette from her friends. I cannot look after him alone then, not with those two girls to watch out for!"

Jean Valjean was silent for a few moments before he clasped her hand in return. "I will be ready in a few minutes," he said a little more cheerily.

"There that wasn't such a bad thing!" Fantine said more light-heartedly before going to her own chamber on the second floor, beside Cosette's room. Victor had a room on the ground floor, and was perfectly willing to give it up in favor of the attic if Jean Valjean wanted to sleep in the house, but the old man refused this offer. '_It isn't right that he does a great deal for us, and yet won't be cared for very much,' _she thought as she found a warm cape and a pretty bonnet adorned with a single flower to go with her pink day dress. '_I'm no longer that young and shouldn't be too showy,' _she reminded herself even as she heard Cosette and Eponine's laughter and chatter from the next room.

When Fantine headed downstairs, Jean Valjean and Victor were already waiting in the front room. "There, we only have half an hour to wait," Victor said as he tapped his pocket watch. "Each lady takes a quarter," he explained cheekily to Jean Valjean and Fantine.

"Some dandies are even worse, you imp!" Eponine protested as she and Cosette hurried down the stairs. Eponine had thrown on a green velvet cape simply to conceal her worn garments, but had her long hair pinned up in knots. "I'm too long for everything else," she said as she shoved her feet back in the shoes she had on earlier.

'_Someone should take her and Azelma to a good modiste,' _Fantine thought, but she knew better than to suggest this outright to Eponine. In the meantime she glanced at Cosette, who was adjusting her own purple attire. "We'll have to be back before dark," she reminded her as she helped her tie her cape.

Cosette nodded. "We don't plan to dally anyway, just to look."

Fantine heard Victor scoff audibly at this. '_It's never just looking,' _she thought, but she bit her tongue as they walked out the door. There was never a way after all to explain this womanly pastime.

It was not a day for a meandering stroll, so their little party went by the quickest way possible first to Saint-Germain, where they made a few purchases, and then they went to the park. Cosette and Victor endeavoured to be cheery so as to make Jean Valjean laugh as they kept in step with him. Eponine was silent, neither in happy reverie nor in serious contemplation. Fantine then lagged behind the merry trio, in an effort to draw the younger girl aside.

Eponine noticed this and gave Fantine a sharp look. "You need not concern yourself with me."

"I've known you since you were only about that high," Fantine reminded her. "Where is your family staying?"

"In the neighbourhood of the Salpetriere," Eponine replied with a diffident shrug. "I don't s'pose you know that quarter."

"I've hardly ever been there," Fantine admitted. "How long have you been there?"

"A week, two maybe," Eponine said. She rubbed her hands before hiding them in the folds of her borrowed cape. "Sometimes I think it's warmer when I'm running about outside instead of staying especially when there's no fire. I'd like to have at least a candle so I could see a little, but it's impossible to really have one since it's so damp. Yesterday Maman found another hole in our blanket. Papa was so angry that it didn't cover his feet."

Fantine shuddered at this sketch. "If there's anything that Monsieur Fabre and I can do for you-"

Eponine laughed mirthlessly. "You can help but that doesn't mean we'll take it," she said before walking ahead to catch up with Cosette.

Fantine bit the inside of her cheek as she quickened her steps to keep up with Jean Valjean. That old foreboding was there once again, and somehow she figured she could only banish it if she spoke to Lisette Thenardier. '_That will mean going into that quarter,' _she realized with a shudder. But if she could go into the area of the Austerlitz to speak to Mabeuf on behalf of her two young ones, perhaps she could take a detour for a former companion.

They stayed at the Luxembourg for around two hours, by which time the clouds were beginning to hide the sun, making the chilly air that much deeper. Fantine rubbed her aching fingertips in an effort to keep them warm even as she noticed Victor sitting on his hands and the two girls huddling close. "There's a cafe near here to get warm," she suggested, remembering a little bit of her old strolls in the area.

"What cafe?" Cosette asked.

"I'm not sure what the name is, but I think it's in the area of the Rue de Gres," Fantine said, pointing towards the east end of the promenade.

Eponine tapped her feet. "Hmm, that's not very far off."

"Now I'm hungry," Victor said, rubbing his stomach.

Jean Valjean nodded as he adjusted his hat. "Perhaps we can stay for a little while," he concurred as he offered his arm to Fantine.

Fantine couldn't hide her victorious smile as she slipped her arm around Jean Valjean's elbow. She saw Victor impishly squeeze himself between Cosette and Eponine, making a show of looping his arms around theirs. Fantine laughed, feeling almost as giddy as she did on many a spring day sixteen or so years ago. She wondered if any of the people they passed in the street may have been acquaintances from those long gone days, and if somehow she would be recognized. '_What would they say if they saw me now?' _she thought, feeling a sudden rush of contentment.

They exited the park onto the Place Saint-Michel, which was bustling with hawkers and beggars hassling carriages or occasionally the better dressed pedestrians. There was a little cafe on the side of the square abutting the Rue de Gres. A couple of police officers were smoking near the entrance. "Are you joining the party in there?" one of them called to Fantine.

"No, only stopping in," Fantine replied dismissively as they squeezed into the cafe entrance and found seats in a far corner. The front room was packed with students, workingmen, and grisettes, so much that a trio of young men had decided to exit via a back door. A group of students, or at least they seemed to be judging by the huge tomes stacked up on the table in front of them, were involved in an intense discussion. Others were drinking, playing card games, flirting with the pretty girls, or talking loudly about a variety of subjects.

"Look at those, probably came straight from the Necker or some hospital," Victor muttered as he pointed to some young men walking by the cafe. "They practically smell of it."

"How would you know?" Cosette asked. "Oh dear, one of them has a skull..." she said, pointing to a round shape tucked under one of the rascals' arms.

"There's Monsieur Bahorel!" Eponine whispered, pointing to where their brash friend was sauntering by amid a group of elegantly dressed fellows. "Wonder if he'll stop in here?"

"It's rude to point," Fantine admonished. She watched quietly as Bahorel simply walked past the cafe and went in the general direction of the Rue de Gres. '_Probably has some business with those friends,' _she decided as she listened to Jean Valjean give instructions to the server, who returned after a few minutes with some coffee and bread.

As Fantine sipped her drink, she noticed that the cafe did not seem to get any more crowded than when they entered. Now and then a man or two left, usually by the front door though there were a few who departed via the passage at the back. One young dandy in the group of students cracked a raucous joke with his companions as he scooped up a fine hat then sauntered out through this rear doorway. A couple of minutes later a taller, handsome student with golden hair also stood up from this group and clasped his seatmates' shoulders before making a more solemn exit through the front door and then heading in the direction of the Rue de Gres.

"I've seen some of these smooth faces about," Victor snickered. "Not bad with muskets; they didn't shoot themselves in the feet in that argument with Charles the Tenth!"

"Careful with that talk," Jean Valjean warned.

"I've seen them all before! They are comrades," Victor pointed out.

'_And would have run out to join them if we hadn't shut the doors,' _Fantine thought with a shudder. Those had been terrible days, during which she lay awake listening for musket fire and marching in the streets, afraid that at any moment a bullet would shatter the windows and injure the youngsters, or that their house would be stormed for some reason or another. She knew she was not the only mother to breathe a sigh of relief on hearing of the Duc d'Orleans' taking the reins. '_Never again, God, please!' _she prayed silently.

It was at that moment that she saw a thin figure, clearly a gamin, darting across the Place Saint-Michel, only to be stopped by a burly policeman alighting from a fiacre. A shout came from the area of the Rue de Gres as still more gendarmes approached the door of the cafe. "The windows! Everyone out through the windows!" a panicked girl shrieked as footsteps sounded from elsewhere in the cafe.

"On the floor and under the table, all of you!" Jean Valjean muttered. Fantine lost no time in dropping to her knees and moving so as to hide Cosette from view as the other customers began fleeing the premises. Eponine was attempting valiantly to keep Victor from jumping up and joining the commotion, and only succeeded when Jean Valjean helped her keep a grip on the boy.

Suddenly someone pushed aside the table such that it very nearly crashed into the wall. "Go out through the side window!" Bahorel hissed. "I'll provide a diversion!"

"What-"Fantine gasped a mere moment before their friend and some other young men bounded towards where a gendarme had just barged into the cafe. Before she could leap to her feet and follow her companions, something crashed into her and she fell hard against a table. Through the haze of pain she heard a shriek and she looked up to see a policeman cornering Cosette against the corner nearest the doorway.

"Get away from her!" Fantine shouted as she jumped up and shoved the gendarme away from her daughter. "Cosette, go now!"

"Maman-"Cosette cried out before a grisette practically bundled her out of the cafe door. "Maman, look out!"

Before Fantine could dash after them, a pair of gendarmes seized her by her arms and dragged her to the center of the room. She kicked and screamed until one of the men roughly covered her mouth with his hand. "Let go of me!" she yelled as she twisted away from his grip.

"That will depend if you cooperate, Madame," a stocky man in an inspector's uniform growled as he entered the cafe. He looked around the room, which was now a confusion of overturned tables, shattered glasses, and abandoned books. "Where are the others?" he barked.

"Still running about, Inspector Perrot," one exhausted gendarme wheezed. "Damned buggers must have heard we were coming!"

The inspector gritted his teeth before looking at Fantine. "Where did you tell the girl to go?"

"Home. Please, don't do anything to her. She's my daughter, we were just passing through to get warm, we didn't know what was happening here," Fantine said, fighting to keep calm even as she saw that Jean Valjean, Cosette, Victor, and Eponine were all nowhere in sight. '_If they saw the others go, we're lost,' _she realized, and so she bit her lip lest she betray them.

"A likely story!" the inspector barked.

Fantine fell to her knees and grasped the inspector's feet. "I swear we had nothing to do with the trouble. You have to let us go," she begged. "Please, I'll do anything."

The inspector looked down at her. "Anything?"

Fantine managed a nod. '_If only to give them time to get away, or think of how to explain all of this,' _she thought as she struggled to her feet and braced for yet another round of questions.


	12. Chapter 12

_A/N: Here we go!_

**Chapter 12: The Denizens of the Home of Hades**

Eponine Thenardier did not run, but merely relocated. All she needed was that split second to wriggle through the window of the cafe, only to end up in a back alley that reeked of refuse and mud. "Cosette! Madame Fantine!" she called in a low whisper. There was no need to call for M. Fabre and Victor, for she'd seen them make their escape, but out the door. As for Bahorel, he was nowhere in sight.

A cry came from the far end of the alley. "Let me go! My Maman is still inside!" Cosette shouted as she tried to wrench free from the grip of a grisette who was dragging her away from the cafe.

Eponine winced for a moment before running to where Cosette was still pleading with the other girl. "Cosette, we can't do anything but wait!" she snapped as she grabbed her friend. "I'm sorry, she's in a state of shock," she said to the grisette.

"I don't blame her," the grisette said as she rubbed her forearms. She was a fine-looking woman with deep eyes and dark curls. Her cheeks were dimpled, giving her an air that was coy as opposed to haughty. She looked about before motioning for Cosette and Eponine to follow her to another part of the Place Saint-Michel. "Can't have them seeing us either; that would only start too many questions."

"Them?" Cosette repeated. "What did the police want upstairs?"

The grisette shook her head. "It's not our concern."

Eponine gritted her teeth as she thought back on the faces she'd seen at the cafe. '_One man went out through the back, the other through the door,' _she recalled. Given that the place had been populated by students, there were a few distinct possibilities that came to mind. "So what are they saying now about the old pear-head?" she whispered.

A slightly shocked smile spread over the grisette's face before she quickly resumed her blasé expression. "Be careful where you ask that. You don't want to end up in Saint-Lazare, do you?"

'_Wouldn't be surprised if I eventually do,' _Eponine thought but before she could come up with a quip to illustrate this she heard footsteps pelting down the alley. "Victor!" she called.

The boy wiped his face, which was streaked with mud and spilled coffee. "Maman is out. They won't take her to the police house or anything," he said.

"Where is she now?" Cosette asked as she fumbled for her handkerchief to wipe Victor's face.

"With Grandfather," Victor said, making a jerking motion with his thumb.

"You really look like a _gavroche_ when you do that," Eponine muttered. Sometimes she was not sure what to say or do around this boy, who had a familiar face and yet such different manners. '_Like he's neither my brother nor Cosette's,' _she thought as she looked around the square, but she could not see either M. Fabre or Fantine. "You two should go. Tell your mother and your grandfather that I'm safe and I had to hurry home," she told Cosette and Victor.

"Are you sure, Ponine?" Cosette asked concernedly.

Eponine merely nodded before pulling the cape more tightly around her. It was understood that she would simply return the garment some other day. "See you soon," she said to the Fabres before hurrying after the grisette, who was walking off in the general direction of the Place du Pantheon. '_She clearly knows those boys,' _she mused, only to have her notion confirmed when she saw this woman rush into the arms of a bespectacled student carrying a ratty looking bag for holding medical supplies. She considered doubling back to view the scene of the raid or perhaps to track down Bahorel and find out what was going on, but she thought better of it and instead turned south towards the Barriere de Italie.

It was a long way to her intended destination, but Eponine soon found herself running instead of walking in order to get away from the biting chill of the early evening. Now and then she cast a glance over her shoulder just to watch the bright lights of the Latin Quartier grow dimmer and dimmer behind her. "I could use a lamp that stays with me," she muttered as she looked up only to find that the moon was almost completely obscured by thick clouds.

As soon as she was past the Rue d'Orleans, Eponine paused to catch her breath as well as to look about to make sure that no one was on her trail. She bit her lip as she looked ahead towards the darkened suburb of Marche-aux-Chevaux. There were so few streetlamps here such that whole portions of the street were pitch-black, and what parts of the street that had illumination were still so dim such that Eponine was sure that the shadows sometimes moved on their own accord. She clenched her fists before taking a deep breath and ran down the street, taking a left first, and then running a little way to turn to the right, and taking a few more turns this way till she found herself on the Rue des Cornes. There was a squat smoky cookhouse in this vicinity, and despite the reek of scorched roasts and tobacco, she slipped into the building's taproom.

Her avid eyes immediately found a handsome dark-haired figure seated in a corner, idly tapping a billystick against the tabletop. "Did they leave you behind again, Montparnasse?" she greeted as she sat atop the table right in front of him. In the flickering lights of the taproom it was easy to forget how threadbare his coat and gloves really were, or that his shoes were in need of blacking.

Montparnasse's red lips curved upwards in a wolfish grin as he laid eyes on her. "This time I'll be the one doing the leaving if they aren't here in an hour." He reached over to pinch the neckline of her cape. "Nice get-up. If only it didn't belong to the Fabre girl, it would fit you better."

"Can't help what I got from Maman," Eponine said, making a show of wiggling her gangly arms and legs. It was just one way to answer Montparnasse's backhanded teasing about her height. "Have you seen her or Zelma?"

"No, only your old man," Montparnasse replied. He beckoned for her to lean in closer, to the point that she could smell the cheap wine on his breath. "Babet is not happy. Your father's letters are tripping up our way again."

"Not my fault that we like to meet the swells in the front door while you like to break into the windows," Eponine said as she crossed her arms. "I can't do anything if all the folks with money are in one place."

"You're the one who knows those in those snug places. Can't you get a hint from them or a name at least?" Montparnasse asked.

"I'm not getting the Fabres in on this. I've told you so before," she said firmly. The events of the evening only made her more resolved to keep her friends out of both ends of the shadowy business. "Besides they are Latin Quartier folk and they don't know anyone else outside. There's hardly much picking here; you've always had better luck in the Temple."

"You do not know where to look."

"Maybe you could toss a rich student my way."

"You don't know how to get either," Montparnasse pointed out as he spun his billystick. "If that's what you're looking for, there is a _much_ easier way to go about it, and more satisfying too, I hear."

Had Eponine been of the easily affronted sort, she would have slapped Montparnasse or deliberately scrunched his curled hair out of place. In fact, the smug grin he was giving her almost begged for this sort of treatment. Instead she coolly grabbed the other end of his billystick between two of her fingers. "I s'pose you could do it too; there are people who'd gladly throw francs _your_ way for it."

Montparnasse swore as he pulled the weapon away from her. "I'm not that sort of man."

"I'm not that sort of girl either," Eponine retorted. The very idea made her shiver as if the coldest wind had suddenly passed through the cookhouse, even as she averted her gaze from some of the tawdrily dressed ladies on the premises.

The dandy laughed as he regarded her. "You're little better. There's no difference between a woman who sells herself for several francs a night, and one who wants to be wedded for several thousand."

"Stop that." She felt Montparnasse's smooth fingers trailing over the heavy fabric of her borrowed cape, dangerously close enough to part its folds and gain access to her threadbare blouse underneath. Before she could lean into his cool touch, she heard a coarse laugh from the middle of the room. She shut her eyes, hoping against all hope that her ears were tricking her, but the rich yet grating accent that filled the room denied her this notion.

Montparnasse rolled his eyes. "There goes your father."

Eponine nodded before slipping off the table and unfastening her cape. "Hide this," she told Montparnasse before shoving the cape at him and then sauntering up to where her father was regaling some card players with a yarn about Waterloo. "Good evening Papa," she greeted.

M. Thenardier spun around in his chair. "What are you doing here, my girl?" he asked in a tone that was both chagrined and kindly.

"Telling you that I spoke to the lady and she said nix," Eponine said.

"Where have you been the whole day after?" M. Thenardier asked.

"Going about," Eponine replied innocently. She could not tell him that she'd been with the Fabres; not only would her father berate her for 'gossiping all day' with Cosette, he had acquired an unfortunate tendency for following up _her_ visits with polite calls of his own.

M. Thenardier glared at her. "Don't let me hear you've been making eyes at those students in the Place du Pantheon. It's not proper behaviour for a Thenardier."

Eponine gritted her teeth as she glanced at Montparnasse, who mouthed '_No, at the Sorbonne,' _before plastering an oafish smile on his handsome face. She looked back at her father, who was listening to a bawdy anecdote. "We should bring something back for Maman and Azelma," she said.

"The food will be cold by the time you get to them. Tell them to come here," M. Thenardier said.

'_I'll catch my death running back and forth on a night like this!' _Eponine thought with dismay. Nevertheless she knew that what francs her father had on hand would be enough for a meal for their family, and hopefully that meal would be good for several days or at least till some benefactor would look their way. She backed off, retrieved her cape from Montparnasse, and bit the inside of her cheek as she headed back outside.

By the time Eponine reached the Rue du Petit-Banquier, her hands were already beginning to tingle and sting from the cold. As she dashed into the yard of a rundown, mismatched looking hovel, her hand was already fumbling for a pin she kept in the sleeve of her blouse. She used this to pick the lock on the front door of this tenement; the pin served as her passkey and an occasional ornament. The door creaked open to admit her into a tiny space that was dominated by a dreary and damp staircase. Eponine quietly tiptoed her way upstairs and into a long corridor with various doors on either side. '_It's better than the streets,' _she reminded herself. This hovel was so dank and dismal such that most tenants did not stay long; in fact their last neighbor, a shy, dark haired boy who was supposed to be either a lawyer or a baron, had moved out a week ago.

She headed straight for the door at the far end of this passage and knocked twice before pushing her way into a dark cell. The fireplace here was piled high with ashes and she had to pull her cape more tightly around her for warmth as she tiptoed over to two pallets in the corners. "Maman! Azelma!" she whispered as she crouched beside two apparently dozing figures.

Azelma sat up quickly on one of the pallets, nearly knocking her head on a beam that jutted out above her bed. She paused to run her hands through her matted black hair. "Ponine, where have you been all day?" she asked.

"Out. Come on, put on a skirt over that chemise. Papa wants us to go out for dinner," Eponine said.

A rustling sound came from the other pallet. "Right now, my treasure?" Mme. Thenardier asked.

"Yes. It's going to be a big one," Eponine replied. '_She's almost exactly in the same way as when I left this morning,' _she realized. Now that her eyes were more adjusted to the gloom, she saw that a bowl and a crock were lying by the fireplace. "You already ate?"

"Potatoes and onions. The last of them," Azelma said. "I'm not hungry anymore, Ponine."

'_Liar,' _Eponine thought. If she stayed long enough, she was sure she could hear her sister's stomach growling. "Maman? What about you?"

Mme. Thenardier did not say anything as she smoothed out the rumpled apron that had served also as her blanket. "Are there many people there?" she asked. She was in an even more languid and begrimed state than Azelma was: her uncombed hair resembled a red bush running wild, her cheeks were not red with cold but smudged with soot, and her hands still smelled of scorched oil.

"Yes. That's a good thing I s'pose," Eponine replied.

Mme. Thenardier heaved a deep sigh. "You girls go on if you want to. I'm not hungry either and I have a pain in my head."

"Oh Maman, it's much warmer there than it is here," Eponine pleaded. "There are nice people there, and there must be _something_ you'll like to eat there. It may be good for your headache."

Mme. Thenardier tried combing her hair with her fingers but gave up the effort after a few moments. She lay back down before looking again at her daughter. "I'll go next time. Maybe tomorrow. Have a good time, my dear"

'_That's what she said last time,' _Eponine thought. She looked to Azelma, who seemed to merely watch this scene impassively. "Zelma? Are you coming?"

"I'll stay with Maman," Azelma finally said. "You'd better run back before Papa gets angry."

Eponine nodded before going to a chair where she'd thrown an old mantle. "You can use this as a blanket. I have one of my own," she said as she tossed the tattered cloak to her sister. '_Not mine really, but I can pretend it is for a little while,' _she thought as she rubbed her hands for warmth. She pressed her hands to her face to make the best of the heat before getting to her feet and slipping out of the cell. She smiled when she saw a sliver of pale light streaming in through a crack in the roof; somehow the clouds had begun to clear and the moon was out.

She was halfway down the corridor when a creaking sound pierced through the darkness, making her halt moment. _'It's probably just the wind making the doors shake,' _she told herself; there were far too many drafts in this tenement and the doors were quite loose at their hinges. As she hurried down the stairs, she heard what sounded like footfalls coming from downstairs. Just before she reached the landing halfway down, she caught sight of a person hurrying upstairs. Instead of stepping aside, she instead jumped down the last two steps just to be able to accost this stranger on the landing.

The stranger looked her way, clearly startled by the sound of her feet. "Who's there?"

Eponine looked up into the face of a tall, slender young man who seemed to have forgotten his overcoat in this bitterly cold weather, at least judging by the fact that he had on a dark coat over a brighter waistcoat and an untied cravat. It was too dark for her to get a good look at his eyes, but the moonlight still showed his strong profile and his messy golden hair. It was enough for her to hazard a guess. "I saw you at the cafe," she blurted out.

The young man's hand tightened on the banister. "Once again, who are you?" he demanded sternly.

"No one of consequence to you, I s'pose," she replied. "You were with those students. You walked past me on your way out—I was with that family in a corner. I saw you. Everyone did too."

The student tried to push past her. "Let me through."

"It's terribly cold upstairs, are you sure you want to go there?" she asked. She saw him hesitate, as if taken aback or at least baffled at her words. "You're here because you're hiding from the _cognes_."

"_Cognes_?" he asked.

"The gendarmes," Eponine clarified.

"This is none of your business, Citizenness," he muttered before making a second attempt to evade her. In response she stepped back so that she was blocking off the stairway entirely. He gritted his teeth before looking right at her. "What do you want?"

"For you to be careful, Monsieur whatever you want to be called," Eponine said quickly. She bit her lip to catch herself before she let slip something potentially incriminating. "Maybe it's none of my business what you're doing here but it becomes a problem when you disturb quiet ones like us."

"I do not intend to abide here long," the young man said. "This is only a temporary address."

"That's all well and good for you, Monsieur, you can afford to remove," Eponine said under her breath as she finally stepped aside. "Good evening to you," she added only to have the young man nod curtly by way of reply before continuing on his way upstairs. She watched him go and listened till his footsteps faded in the passage; she deduced that he also lived in the far end of the corridor. '_What an odd one!' _she thought as she ran the rest of the way downstairs and headed outside, taking care not to slam the front door.

When she returned to the cookhouse at the Rue des Cornes, the place was still full but Montparnasse was nowhere in sight. M. Thenardier was still drinking at a table, but now with a different set of card players. "Papa, where did Montparnasse go?" Eponine asked him.

"With the others," M. Thenardier said with a dismissive wave of his hand. "He has better things to do than to chat with you, and you shouldn't bother yourself with the likes him. Where is your mother?"

"She wasn't feeling well," Eponine replied.

M. Thenardier cursed under his breath. "She chose a fine time to be ill! Imagine, just when I had a stroke of luck!" He fished in his coat for several sous, which he cast in Eponine's direction. "Go get yourself something to eat."

Eponine managed to catch one coin and had to search on the floor for the rest. '_Four sous,' _she counted silently. Hopefully there would still be enough to bring some bread or a drink back for her mother and Azelma. After she haggled with the proprietor of the cookhouse and found a better seat, she noticed her father elbowing his way into a discussion with an elderly man dressed as if he was in full mourning. _'What sort of business is bringing people down here nowadays?' _she wondered, keeping her eyes fixed on this scene while mulling over her encounter with the strange student in the hall.


	13. Chapter 13

_A/N: Thanks for the reviews, everyone! A very long chapter out here, but this is necessary to clear up our delightful cameos from the last few chapters. _

_Sachita: Yes they will meet more often_

_D.F.G: Yes there will be E/E, but not Eponine/Bahorel. Eponine can't handle that intelligent bruiser and he's more apt to look at her as a kid sister since they've known each other for so long. _

**Chapter 13: Oh Mother Who Bore Me**

"My dear, they are still so young!"

"On the contrary the younger the better! They'll be useless if they turn into hags!"

"They're our daughters! How could you say such a thing?"

As these words intruded into Eponine's dreams, she plugged her ears with her fingers in a last-ditch effort to fall asleep. Next to her, Azelma groaned and squirmed as she pulled their makeshift blanket over her head. "What are they talking about, Ponine?" the younger Thenardier girl whispered.

"Something to do with us, obviously," Eponine murmured crossly. Seeing that sleep would continue to evade her, she made a show of stretching and rubbing her eyes. "Good morning Maman. Good morning Papa," she greeted as she sat up to look at her parents, who were both crouched by the hearth.

"There, you're finally awake you lazy thing," M. Thenardier chided. "Wake up Azelma. I have something important for you two to do today."

Eponine poked her sister's ribs, earning her a curse and a swat to her hand. She got to her feet and tried not to wince at the cold that seeped in from between her toes to up her shins. "What do we have for breakfast?" she asked distractedly.

"You listen up and you won't have to worry about breakfast for much longer," M. Thenardier snapped. He tossed down two five franc pieces. "Get yourselves two good dresses at the Temple. Nothing shabby now, you have to look respectable!"

"Are we going to the theater?" Azelma asked as she gingerly picked up a coin, almost as if she was afraid it would burst into flame between her fingers.

"Bah! Is that all you can think about?" M. Thenardier sneered. "We will soon be visiting Monsieur Verdier, who is interested in meeting one of you."

"A rich gentleman," Mme. Thenardier said, managing a smile that did not quite reach her eyes. "He is looking for a wife."

Eponine clutched at the wall for support even as she vaguely heard Azelma dropping the coin. "A wife? Whatever for?" she blurted out.

"Who cares what reason that man may have? At least he's offering a respectable situation," M. Thenardier growled. "Think of me and your mother. We're old and we cannot keep you here forever!"

Eponine looked to Azelma, who appeared to be on the verge of fainting. '_Papa will force me first, I'm older,' _she thought. Yet it occurred to her that her father needed her somewhat for his _other_ schemes, and therefore would be more willing to dispense with Azelma in this fashion. "Papa, are you sure it's quite legal? Zelma is only fifteen, and I'm not seventeen till April," she said.

"It will not matter in time. Now get dressed and stop wasting time!" M. Thenardier ordered. He looked to his wife and nodded. "I need you to come with me for today."

Mme. Thenardier gaped at him as if he had declared that the monarchy had suddenly turned into a Republic. "To go outside, my dear?"

"Where else?" M. Thenardier said. "You have to dress up too and inspire confidence!"

Mme. Thenardier nodded despairingly. "Then I will be ready in a few moments," she said before going to a heap of clothes in a corner. She pulled out a huge green tartan shawl and a black bonnet with drooping feathers. "You girls take the capes," she said, gesturing to the one that had been their blanket as well as the velvet cape that Eponine had borrowed from Cosette.

"Wait a moment, Maman," Azelma said as she took the bonnet. She snapped some of the feathers that hung down from the hat. "There, so it won't droop so and get in the way."

Eponine did not say anything but she looked to her mother and shook her head. '_Maman, please don't let him,' _she begged silently, not daring to raise her further objections in her father's hearing. She felt something sink in her chest when Mme. Thenardier sighed deeply. "Must we?" she whispered.

"I only want you girls to be safe. He sounds kind; it might not be so bad," Mme. Thenardier said as she wrapped the tartan shawl over her skirt. Her movements were slow, as if she was wax or stone just forced into animation. "You'd better go; the market at the Temple opens soon."

Eponine bit her lip as she stuffed her feet into her leaky shoes and then threw on her borrowed cape. She ran her fingers through her hair in another attempt to tame it, or at least till she could look into the grimy windowpane and consider her reflection as somewhat passable. She looked to where Azelma was also trying to untangle her own tresses. "You'd best cover up using this," she said, tossing an old but relatively clean kerchief at her sister.

Azelma scowled before tying the rag around her hair. "You still need a hat, Ponine."

"Maybe I'll find one if we get lucky," Eponine said as she snatched up the money that their father had given them and stuffed the coins into her sleeve. On their way out she thought of knocking on the cells next to her family's den, but she thought the better of it. Most likely their new neighbor was still sleeping the late night off. As she headed out side, she could feel a gnawing emptiness in her stomach but she willed herself to ignore it; if she bought even just a little bit of bread, there would not be enough for their clothes. Hopefully Azelma would be able to hold up too till they could finish their errand.

Nevertheless despite their best efforts and a fair bit of haggling, Eponine and Azelma wound up spending nearly all the money on two rather oversized dresses, one in puce and the other in a darker cerulean, as well as two matching plain bonnets "We have to go home now and tuck them in, or we'll look like we put on sacks," Azelma said.

"It's too fussy for us to do on our own; we'll just end up ruining them," Eponine pointed out, gesturing to the voluminous sleeves of the dresses. There was after all a reason that neither of them had found employment as needlewomen. "We're going to the Rue Plumet."

"That's almost all the way across Paris!" Azelma protested.

"That's why we have to start walking now," Eponine retorted. At the very least they were making the trek by day, which made matters far more bearable. Nevertheless it was indeed a long way down the Rue du Temple to the neighbourhood of the Hotel de Ville and the Pont d'Arcole, and then to the Ile du Palais. Here, the two girls made a detour so that they crossed the river in the area of the Quai Conti and the Place Dauphine instead of the more straightforward crossing at Pont Saint-Michel; the latter route would take them past the Sorbonne, the Place du Pantheon, and of course a little bit too close to the Place Saint-Michel, which was sure to still be under watch. From here the Thenardier sisters took a roundabout route past the Abbaye Aux Bois, skipping the Rue de Babylone and the barracks here, and finally arriving at the Rue Plumet.

Over here they found Victor Fabre at the gate, feeding scraps to some half-starved cats. The boy grinned cheekily at Eponine and Azelma as he straightened up and wiped his hands on his trousers. "Good thing the police haven't frightened you hens away," he quipped.

Eponine tugged on his ears lightly. "Is your Maman busy?"

Victor glanced over his shoulder at the house. "She's got company coming, but she won't let me or Cosette help out with it. If you don't mind waiting-"

"Oh please let us in!" Azelma begged.

Victor made a ridiculous imitation of a manservant's bow before letting them in. Instead of going to the front room, as they were accustomed to, Victor ushered them upstairs. All the while Eponine could hear the telltale sound of cutlery in the kitchen combined with the gentle gurgling of boiling water. '_What an odd luncheon!' _she thought as they made their way to Cosette's room.

Cosette was busy embroidering yet another handkerchief but she threw her embroidery hoop aside the moment her door opened. "I was going to look for you two this afternoon if you sent no word!" she greeted as she hugged Eponine and then Azelma. "Your parents aren't angry about yesterday?"

"They don't know," Eponine said as she took off the cape. "Thank you for it. It was a little short but it got me through the night."

"Where's your grandfather?" Azelma asked the Fabres as they all found seats in the cozy room.

"He's visiting Monsieur Mabeuf at Austerlitz. You didn't see him on your way in?" Cosette replied.

Eponine shook her head. '_Maybe he went by some other way,' _she thought. "What happened after I had to go?" she asked.

Cosette's lively smile turned grave while Victor rolled his eyes. "Something that Maman and Grandfather won't tell us. It must have been horrible since I woke up late last night and heard them talking downstairs in the front room. Maman was crying so hard, something about 'keeping them safe', 'having to pretend', and 'not loving him'." She wrung her hands before looking at her friends. "It has to do with us—at least Victor and me. It was such a terrible idea to go walking yesterday!"

"No, the bad idea was going into that cafe," Victor pointed out. "We should have cleared out when we saw Bahorel and his friends in the neighbourhood."

Eponine bit her lip, knowing that Victor was correct. Bahorel had never made a secret of his anti-monarchist and now anti-Orleanist leanings, so it was a matter of time till he and any comrades of his would attract the attention of even the most obtuse police agent. She nearly laughed as she recalled the young man she'd accosted on the stairs; he was definitely the sort who was impossible to miss or even forget. '_Looks like a tough one though; it won't be the cold that will drive him out,' _she thought.

At that moment a light knock sounded on the door, signalling Fantine's entrance. She was dressed elegantly for one who was to stay at home: she had on a sky blue dress that was belted at the waist with a satin ribbon. She'd even gone as far as to wear matching slippers and to put her golden hair up in knots. "How are you four up here?" she asked kindly.

"Very well, Maman," Cosette said.

Fantine nodded before looking to the Thenardier girls. "I haven't seen you in a long time, Azelma," she said to the younger one.

"I like staying at home," Azelma said. "Ponine said you could help us."

"It's only to get these dresses altered, Madame Fantine," Eponine explained. "Papa says he's bringing us out for something nice."

Fantine nodded as she looked over the dresses that the girls had brought. "What about your Maman?"

"She has things of her own," Azelma chimed in.

Eponine had to keep a straight face as she recalled their mother's attire earlier that day. "Actually she _might _find something," she said. "I should wear that puce dress and Azelma the blue one?"

Fantine sighed and shrugged. "I'd rather see you wearing green since it would go better with your hair," she told Eponine before she motioned for her and Azelma to stand up straight. "Try on those dresses so we can see what has to be done."

Eponine waited for Victor to quit the room before she pulled the puce dress over her own clothing. '_I bet Maman didn't look this horrid when she was my age,' _she thought as she let Fantine tuck and pin the dress to see how it ought to be taken in to fit her skinny frame. By some trick of fate, Azelma had turned out into a more feminine and far less horrific likeness of their father, but Eponine had inherited the dark auburn hair and freckled looks of her mother's family, the Sorels. She gritted her teeth as she looked at herself in the mirror. How could even Montparnasse stand to lay eyes on her?

"I'll have the dresses ready for you tomorrow," Fantine said, breaking through Eponine's reverie. "If your mother comes with you, I can also alter something for her as well."

'_If we can get her to come along,' _Eponine thought. "Thank you Madam Fantine. I only have four sous left though-"

Fantine shook her head. "Don't think anything of it." She looked to Cosette, who was going through her own closet. "I need you and Victor to get me some wool. I need to make a few more things for the church basket."

Cosette wheeled around, clearly startled at this errand. "Are you sure, Maman?"

"I have a lot to do today. Besides, I trust your choices," Fantine said. "It shouldn't take you two very long; I want you back here straightaway."

Cosette nodded confusedly before she laid out a pink dress as well as two others in dark green and lavender. "Please come with us?" she asked the Thenardier sisters.

Azelma nodded gleefully but Eponine hesitated on seeing the dresses, which were even finer than those she'd just brought. "I might dirty those."

"We're friends going on a stroll. I don't want anyone to think otherwise," Cosette said.

Only then Eponine nodded in assent; at any rate Cosette's dresses would be a lot warmer than her own rags. She and Azelma took the opportunity to clean up as best as they could with washcloths since there was no time to draw a full bath. Azelma insisted on having her hair braided and curled, but Eponine, already quite frustrated with her own unruly waves, was content to simply pin her hair back into a knot. Yet when Eponine put on the dark green dress and looked in the mirror, she found that she liked what she saw. '_Almost a lady,' _she thought, especially when she realized that she only had to smile to complete the effect.

Cosette was all gaiety as she made her toilette and helped out her friends, but as soon as they and Victor were out the door and at the corner of the Rue Plumet, her smile turned suspicious. "Maman _never_ lets us pick the cloth," she remarked.

"Does it make any difference?" Victor asked.

"It makes _all _the difference," Cosette said. "That's why she wants to pick it out herself, usually, so she knows exactly what she's working with."

'_I'd do much the same if I was in that trade too,' _Eponine mused "Where will we go?"

"Rue Ferou. That's where Maman always gets the cloth," Cosette replied, trying to sound calm but the worry was still evident in her voice. "Ponine, this isn't making sense, you can tell."

"Nothing makes sense anymore," Eponine said gloomily. She thought of mentioning her present predicament and the reason for the dresses, but she bit her lip. '_Wouldn't do to have the Fabres asking even about that,' _she thought as they walked on towards the Rue Ferou.

Their path brought them to a large, respectable looking shop on the corner of this street, just facing the famous park. It was clear in a moment why Fantine frequented this place; Zephine now had a position here, working the front counter. While Cosette busied herself talking with Zephine, Victor waited outside the shop door while Eponine and Azelma perused some of the ready-made gowns in the shop window. "The best places don't show their wares like this," Eponine noted. "The dressmakers keep them a secret, only for the rich ladies who can pay them."

Azelma glanced up from where she had been running her hands over a lacy skirt. "We used to have things at least half as nice, when Maman had time to make them."

'_Time isn't quite the problem,' _Eponine thought even as she caught sight of a needlewoman rearranging a pelisse that had almost fallen to the floor. She studied this dark haired woman for a moment, up until she heard the grisette laugh merrily at some joke a roguish customer uttered. Eponine slipped away from where Azelma was still in raptures over another gown, and went over to this woman. "I didn't say thank you for last night, Mademoiselle," she greeted.

The grisette nearly started at the sound of Eponine's voice. "Do I know you?"

"Somewhat. You pulled me and my friend into an alley after that trouble in the cafe," Eponine replied.

The grisette's eyes flashed as she looked from Eponine to Cosette. "You've got a lot of nerve coming into this neighbourhood then."

"So do you."

"I work here. That is easier to explain away."

Eponine bit her lip as she met the grisette's eyes. She would have to drop a name, as risky as this practice usually was. "Do you know Monsieur Bahorel? He's an old friend."

The grisette nodded slowly. "He helped you and your friend escape from the cafe."

"Where can I find him?"

"I don't know where he'd be at this hour."

Suddenly Zephine made a whistling sound from the counter. "Musichetta! Please show Mademoiselle Fabre here our latest acquisitions," she called to the grisette who'd been conversing with Eponine.

"That would be my friend," Eponine said, gesturing to Cosette.

Musichetta glanced from Cosette to Eponine. "I need to talk with you later," she said before going off to assist Cosette.

'_What an operatic name,' _Eponine noted as she watched Musichetta talking to Cosette. Perhaps it was only a sobriquet, but it was a pretty one which certainly suited the Romantic tastes of the students of the quartier. Before she could mull on this further she saw Victor enter the shop. "Shouldn't you be outside?" she asked him.

Victor shrugged. "I know her."

"Oh how now?"

"She lives with a medical student just up the street."

"She was at that cafe last night," Eponine said. "With them, I'm sure of it."

"She watches the front while the gentlemen talk of gunpowder in the back," Victor replied in a matter-of-fact tone. He waved to Musichetta, who was hurrying back now with Cosette in tow. "Good day to you, Mademoiselle Laurain."

Musichetta grinned at him. "You, I know. So you have a sister after all?"

Victor nodded. "How is everyone?"

"Still abed except for those who have duties and masters," Musichetta replied. She glanced about before motioning for the Fabres as well as the Thenardiers to follow her out of the shop and towards a cul de sac some way up the street. "The raid was very well planned. Someone sounded them out."

"And you think it was us?" Eponine asked accusingly.

"It never happened before," Musichetta retorted.

Cosette looked up with wide eyes. "It _was_ us, but by mistake," she admitted. "A gendarme asked my mother if we were with the party inside, and she said that we weren't."

Musichetta sighed tersely. "That's only one possibility," she said before looking at the four youngsters. "You Fabres need to get clear, if you can. You girls too. The gendarmes might start looking elsewhere."

"Good God, what _is_ going on?" Cosette asked as she looked at Victor. "Now even you?"

Victor hung his head guiltily. "I didn't want you or Grandfather to worry, and I knew Maman would be furious if I ran into trouble."

Azelma looked around uneasily as the Fabre siblings began arguing. "Ponine, maybe we should go home before Papa wonders where we are."

"He won't do that for a little bit longer," Eponine said. She looked to Musichetta, who was eyeing them intently. "We won't cause you any more trouble. I'm sorry, Mademoiselle Laurain."

"What name do you two go by?" Musichetta asked briskly.

Eponine paused, wondering what sobriquet to give out. '_We're using Jondrette at the tenement, but maybe we're not known that way elsewhere,' _she thought. She took a deep breath and looked at the seamstress. "We're Thenardiers."

To her surprise, an approving smile, almost one of recognition, spread over Musichetta's face. "Then you really are Bahorel's friends, and Victor's. Ponine and Zelma, isn't it?"

"It's Eponine and Azelma," the older Thenardier girl corrected.

"I'm sorry, but that's how I heard it before," Musichetta replied. She glanced over her shoulder to where Zephine was now looking up and down the Rue Ferou. "You two stay clear. I can't think of a reason you'd like to be involved in...this, but if you aren't willing to get shot for it, stay away."

"I s'pose you're right," Eponine said while Azelma merely nodded. '_Don't ladies normally stay out of things like those?' _she wondered. '_Marianne is certainly a lady but it's only men who'd be allowed to raise a gun for her like in that painting,' _she mused as she watched Musichetta speak to both Cosette and Victor before hurrying back to the shop.

Cosette took a deep breath as she looked at Victor apologetically. "You're the only brother I have, Victor. I know it's natural, but sorry if I do it a bit much."

"I'm sorry about lying. No secrets?" Victor offered.

Cosette nodded. She looked at the Thenardier sisters. "I'm really sorry about this."

"Better over this problem than something else," Eponine said. '_Though what would they say at Saint-Lazare to this sort of trouble?' _she wondered.

Cosette looked about. "Let's go back by way of the Luxembourg."

"Why, what's there?" Azelma asked. Much to their surprise Cosette didn't answer but resolutely headed down towards the promenade. It was nearly noon now, and the park was lively now with people strolling, chatting or attempting to have picnics, but much of the crowd consisted of people merely passing through.

It seemed as if Cosette had no particular object in going to the Luxembourg; the route she led them through was quite circuitous leading to the side of the Rue del'Ouest, but there was a determination in her eye that not even impetuous Eponine dared to cross. '_There's hardly anyone here!" _Eponine noted as she looked up and down this relatively quiet part of the promenade.

It was at this critical juncture that a gust blew up, sending among several things, a few leaves of paper flying through the air. A raven haired young man was in pursuit, desperately trying to gather these wayward sheets into a folio. The sight of him dashing about, with an old coat flapping off his arms, was so decidedly comical that Victor and Azelma burst out laughing. Cosette though immediately ran to his assistance while Eponine retrieved a page that got caught in a nearby bush.

"Thank you Mademoiselle," the young man said breathlessly when Cosette handed some pages to him. "I'm sorry for all the trouble."

"It's no trouble at all, but you're welcome though," Cosette said graciously. She smiled as she saw some of the pages that the man held out. "Are these for your studies, Monsieur?"

The young man shook his head even as a lovely blush crept onto his face. "I do translations and some paperwork for a publisher."

Eponine, who had just managed to extricate a paper from a branch, now looked on this scene incredulously. '_She's seen him before,' _she realized. It made perfect sense after all; the Luxembourg wasn't too distant from the Rue Plumet, many young men frequented the area or just passed through, so there was some chance or another that they'd espied each other before.

Azelma had stopped laughing and was now watching with interest, while Victor was scowling and gritting his teeth. "He seems decent enough!" Victor muttered, taking care not to be heard by Cosette and her conversation partner.

"Oh what would you know?" Eponine chided. While this young man was certainly not wealthy, he seemed to be kindly and even noble in bearing, there was something congenial about him that differentiated him from the likes of Montparnasse. On the whole though, she found him charming but unimpressive. '_I wouldn't have given him a second glance if he'd been in that cafe last night,' _she noted.

"Marius Pontmercy!" a voice shouted from somewhere else on the promenade. Everyone turned to see a slightly shorter man dressed at the height of fashion, save perhaps for his slightly dented hat. He had reddish brown hair, deep dimples in his cheeks, an expression best suited for laughter, and a stride that was confident but not arrogant. Eponine lowered her eyes at the sight of him; she had seen him too at the cafe.

The man named Marius looked about and blushed. "Good afternoon Courfeyrac."

"You're having a better one," Courfeyrac said, clapping Marius on the shoulder. "You have left my friend too awestruck. What is your name, Mademoiselle?"

"Cosette," the girl replied. "I'm with my brother Victor, and my friends Eponine and Azelma."

Victor saluted to Courfeyrac. "You'd better be careful, that's my _sister_ there," he warned.

"Pontmercy here is my friend," Courfeyrac said, nodding to Victor. He grinned approvingly at Marius and Cosette before looking to the Thenardier girls. "Victor has done everyone a great disservice by neglecting to introduce you two."

"We rarely go out walking with him," Azelma replied.

"A shame," Courfeyrac quipped. He waved to someone else approaching them on the walkway. "You look like you've had a rough evening, my friend."

Eponine looked about and caught sight of a tall young man dressed in an elegant black frock coat over a maroon waistcoat. He was impossible to miss on the promenade owing to his height, his haughty bearing, as well as that messy golden hair which could not really be hidden even under a hat. Eponine knew better than to run, knowing that doing so would only betray her trepidation at seeing him again but this time under broad daylight.

The blond stranger lightly clapped Courfeyrac's shoulder before nodding cordially to Marius and Victor, and more cursorily to the girls. "Good to see you're well," he said. "Later, we need to make a visit."

Courfeyrac nodded understandingly. "Will Combeferre or Joly's assistance be necessary?"

"So it may seem," the newcomer said. "I heard that you were...present last night," he said to Victor.

"Was only stopping in, didn't mean to get in a race," Victor replied.

Courfeyrac laughed at this quip. "In the meantime, let's have more mannerly talk. Enjolras, meet Cosette, Azelma, and Eponine. Ladies, meet my long-time comrade."

Eponine made sure to look Enjolras in the face while the other girls murmured their greetings. Although for the most part his expression was stoic, she was able to detect a flicker of surprise and recognition in his blue eyes when he met her gaze. "It is good to properly meet you, Monsieur," she finally said.

Enjolras merely nodded at this remark. "It has been a long time, Pontmercy," he said to Marius, who was still conversing obliviously with Cosette.

Marius nearly jumped when Courfeyrac grabbed his shoulder to call his attention. "Enjolras is asking how you are," Courfeyrac explained.

"Oh. I've had a lot to manage at work," Marius said distractedly, looking first from Cosette, then to the rest of the group.

"If you have time, your assistance would be more than welcome," Enjolras told him.

'_With moving out perhaps,' _Eponine couldn't help thinking now that she remembered that Enjolras had said that he hadn't planned to stay long at the Gorbeau tenement. Suddenly she felt Azelma tug on her sleeve. "What now?"

"Ponine, we're going to be in trouble," Azelma said through gritted teeth.

Before Eponine could ask why, hurried footsteps cut through the quiet of the park. "Cosette! Victor! What are you two doing here?" a voice snapped.

All eyes turned to see Fantine walking up to them, hands akimbo and her eyes dark in a way that hardly needed any interpretation.


	14. Chapter 14

_A/N: And the tale of misery continues. A warning here: this chapter will deal with the topic of a relatively underage character in a forced arrangement with another much older character. I do not mean to glorify this scenario. _

**Chapter 14: The Proper Kind of Bourgeois**

Following the abruptly concluded visit to the Luxembourg, the Thenardier girls quickly returned home to the now quiet Gorbeau tenement. "I think we might have gotten Cosette and Victor into a lot of trouble," Azelma said remorsefully to her sister as they went up to their squalid cell.

"It was _Cosette's_ idea to go to the park," Eponine reminded her as she slammed the door. She could almost see the wall shake as she did this, and for a moment she thought that the entire edifice would collapse on them. She crossed her arms as she looked about the chaotic hovel. What use would a fine dress be in such a mess? '_What's the use of pretending to be such a lady in a place like this?' _she wondered as she carefully took off her borrowed dress so as not to dirty it.

Azelma sighed as she began unlacing her own gown. "Do you think we'll see any of those young men again?" she asked wistfully.

"Hmph, maybe if we look about," Eponine groused. '_Then again there's that odd fellow Enjolras,' _she thought, but she shook her head as the image of this imposing yet captivating student came to mind. She knew that if her parents or any of their present associates knew that this young man was hiding in this part of town, she'd be given the job of casing him. '_But if something happens to him, it will go badly for so many other people that we and the Fabres know,' _she mused, remembering how Victor had been so familiar with Courfeyrac and Musichetta, as well as how Cosette had talked with Marius Pontmercy. It was clear even to her that Enjolras was of some importance in the other side of the underground, that side that professed to be more concerned with republics instead of thievery and murder.

"That young man Pontmercy was our former neighbor, wasn't he?" Azelma asked after a while.

Eponine shrugged. "He might have been. He looked it."

"I thought I heard someone last night from where his room used to be..." Azelma trailed off as she gestured to the right wall. "Didn't you hear it when you went out?"

"Could have been the wind," Eponine said dismissively.

"That wasn't the wind, Ponine," Azelma insisted. "You _do_ know."

"And no one else should," Eponine snapped. She bit her lip when she saw Azelma's eyes widen with astonishment; now she would have to divulge something if only to get her sister off her back and to give her something to be prepared for in case their father came around to the matter. "The man living there is a fool who won't be of much use to us," she finally said.

"He's not rich?"

"I don't know."

Azelma sighed deeply. "Maybe we ought to find out before Papa gets home and asks."

"Zelma, if we get caught in an ambuscade there's not going to be much use for Papa's other plan and those dresses," Eponine pointed out. Inasmuch as it made her ill to even ponder the idea of a marriage to a complete stranger, she knew it was only marginally better than mouldering away in a prison cell.

Azelma's face twisted. "Do you think that Monsieur Verdier is nice?"

"Maybe nice enough to leave us alone," Eponine said as she lay back down on their pallet and stared at the cracked ceiling. She was sure that their parents were visiting this gentleman, perhaps to iron out a detail or another. '_Maybe even to convince him a little further,' _she thought, already resigning herself to waiting for them to come home. Yet hours passed and soon it was evening, but there was no sign of either of their parents. Eponine thought nothing of it; it wouldn't be the first time they'd disappeared for such a span of time, and anyway there were still some crumbs of bread to eat.

She did not notice when she and Azelma fell asleep, but the next thing she knew it was already morning, judging by the pale light that pierced past the thick grime on the windows. She could hear her mother's snoring in a corner as well as her father's muttering as he wrote at the rickety table. As quickly as she could she readied for the day, choosing to wear her best blouse and the warmest skirt she could find. "I'm picking up the dresses we bought. I had them altered a little," she told her father as she tied her ragged cloak around her shoulders and picked up the green dress she'd worn the day before. There would be another opportunity for Azelma to return her dress.

M. Thenardier looked up from his writing. "Be back at nightfall. We're seeing M. Verdier."

"Must we?" Eponine blurted out. She clapped a hand over her mouth when she saw her father's eyes narrow at her with evident displeasure. "Aren't there other fine girls, proper bourgeoisie—"

"You'll be as fine as I say so," M. Thenardier growled. "You're just as stupid as your mother with those romance stories."

Eponine bit her lip at this jibe, even as she cast a glance towards her mother's still slumbering form. "I won't marry him."

"Eponine, don't be selfish," M. Thenardier retorted. "I'm doing my best to provide for your future, and the least you and your sister can do is cooperate."

"But Papa—"

"Enough of this! Go do your errands, and don't look like such a slattern about it!"

The girl took a few deep breaths before striding out of the room and shutting the door. She ran down the stairs and out into the street, hoping that the cold air would whisk away the hot, stinging feeling welling up behind her eyes. The entire situation seemed like one sick joke: she and Azelma were too young, too coarse, and too insignificant for any respectable man to consider as a prospect, but what would it bode for them if somehow they were not deemed suitable?

Her steps soon led her to the Rue des Cornes, where she hoped to charm someone at the cookhouse into giving her a crust of bread or anything that could serve as breakfast. She succeeded in acquiring half a boiled egg and a small cup of water, but before she could steal away to a corner to enjoy this middling repast, she heard a low laugh from somewhere in the taproom. "Your bourgeois fiancé has forgotten to feed you, I see. Never mind your father's bragging last night."

Eponine rolled her eyes at Montparnasse. "I don't have a fiancé."

Montparnasse smiled mockingly at her. "Your old man has gone quite mad, or he needs spectacles. There's no way that Verdier will want you or Azelma as a bride. Just look at you."

The girl could feel her cheeks burning just from knowing that this remark was certainly overheard by others in the cookhouse. The memory of Montparnasse's words from two nights ago only made it more difficult to raise her head. "Maybe you ought to tell my father that. I'm sure he'd listen to you then," she said acridly.

Montparnasse winced, but whether this was for show or out of a genuine sense of hurt it was impossible to tell. "Have you ever met him?" he asked at length.

She shook her head. "I have no wish to."

"Keep your back straight then," the assassin warned. "It might help your chances a little."

"You're one to talk. I don't see a bourgeois girl on your arm," Eponine taunted.

He laughed softly before biting into a fresh crust of white bread. "Eponine, do you think I am only out for just that? What use is that sort of woman to me?"

"Why else do you dress well?" she asked.

Montparnasse merely sneered before stuffing the rest of the bread into his mouth. "You're such a romantic. Do you think that's a man's only reason for getting on in the world?" He laughed again with undisguised vitriol before pocketing his billy stick. "My best wishes to you both."

Eponine did not say anything as she watched his back seemingly disappear into the crowd in the cookhouse. '_He wouldn't have gotten that elegant to begin with if he hadn't been making eyes at grisettes first,' _she reminded herself. She could almost still see Montparnasse as he had been when they'd first met three years ago: he was an overgrown gamin who knew directions, while she'd just begun the business of delivering her father's letters. '_He didn't even care if he was wearing breeches instead of trousers,' _she recalled a little ruefully as she looked about the cookhouse. The air here wasn't thick and cloying yet with the heavy odor of too many meals cooked in too few hours, and so she found she could take a few deep breaths in order to clear her head. After making short work of her breakfast, she hurried as quickly as she could to the Rue Plumet.

This time it was Cosette who met her at the gate. She was pale and her eyes had shadows under them, as if she hadn't slept all night. "Maman left the altered dresses out for you. Victor is with Grandfather at the Austerlitz for lessons. Maman is out too," she said as she let her friend into the house's elegant drawing room. She raised an eyebrow when Eponine handed back the green dress. "It's yours. It suits you far better than it suits me. Azelma can keep her dress too."

"What's your mother going to say if she wonders where it's gotten off to?" Eponine asked.

"She knows," Cosette whispered. She looked around the room, as if worrying she'd be overheard. "Maman is furious. Not because we went out walking instead of going home straightaway, but of course she's not really happy we did that, but because I was talking to Marius!"

Eponine's jaw dropped. "What's so wrong with that?"

"She just doesn't approve," Cosette replied. "She says it's not suitable, and I don't know what she means. I am sure if she talked to him even a little longer she'd like him as much as I do."

The younger girl paused, wondering what to make of these obviously smitten words coming from her friend. "So what are you going to do, Cosette?"

"I need to reach him somehow. Victor and I can't leave this house, not without Grandfather or Maman," Cosette said. A blush spread over her cheeks as if she had been contemplating something a little indecent. "I have a letter for him, but all I need is an address."

"Didn't he ever tell you?"

"I couldn't ask when Maman was dragging me and Victor off by our ears!"

Eponine sighed at the recollection of yesterday's fiasco. There was only one avenue she could see to make sure that any communication could be fostered in light of this recent development. "So I should ask?" she offered.

Cosette smiled sheepishly. "Could you? Please? I'd do the same for you."

"I know," Eponine said. For a moment she felt the urge to unburden herself as well; perhaps Cosette could help her in her predicament, but one look at her friend's pallid and haggard visage made her hold back. '_One thing at a time, one day then another,' _she reminded herself. Sometimes thinking this was the only way she could keep from crying herself to sleep. "I'll do it since he seems nice enough and you like him," she finally said more pluckily.

"You would?" Cosette asked.

"Better him than some others," Eponine replied. "If he writes back, he can't very well send it here."

"Maybe Victor could...but that would be a little bit of a problem," Cosette said before shaking her head. "If Marius gave the letters to you, it might be easier."

"I'd have to find some reason or another to keep coming here," Eponine pointed out. "Maybe I'll come up with some better excuse soon enough."

"I don't know how to thank you enough for this, Eponine, but surely I will," Cosette said as she clasped Eponine's hands. "Someday when you do find someone-"

"If!" Eponine corrected.

Cosette rolled her eyes kindly. "Don't think that way, please. I know it hasn't been easy for you, and I'd do anything to help you, believe me."

'_That's why I worry,' _Eponine thought even as she managed a nod. "Give me the letter then, Cosette."

"Wait here," Cosette said before racing upstairs. She returned in a few moments carrying the altered dresses. "You should wear that green dress you wanted to return. It's cold outside."

"I'm warm enough," Eponine lied as she took the bundle of garments. She could feel the crisp paper of Cosette's folded missive in between the dresses, but for safety's sake she slipped the note in her pocket. "Anything more you want me to say when I see him?"

"That he's wonderful, that I hope he'll write back soon and that I wish to see him somehow," Cosette said after a moment. "If you go now he may still be at the Luxembourg!"

Eponine nodded again before dashing out of the house and down the Rue Plumet. Before she reached the street corner she had to jump out of the way to avoid being run down by a fiacre. When she turned to get a look at the offending vehicle, she saw it come to a stop outside the house she had just left. She saw a tall gentleman alight from the carriage and reach in to help out someone. Eponine's jaw dropped when she saw the telltale flash of Fantine's tresses before the older woman hastily tucked the stray strands under her lace cap. '_Who has she been visiting with?' _she wondered as she watched the pair enter the house. Was Cosette even aware of this?

Before she could be seen, Eponine tucked the dresses under her arm before dashing off in the direction of the Luxembourg. It did not take her long to locate the walkway where Marius had been the day before, but much to her dismay this portion of the promenade was utterly deserted. She patiently sat on a bench to wait a few minutes as well as to bask a little in the sunshine. She closed her eyes to relish the feeling of heat spreading through her bones coupled with the breeze that cooled her face. Moments like this after all were becoming few and far in between nowadays. She stayed until she heard the distant tolling of church bells; it was now eleven in the morning.

It was still too dangerous to return to the Place Saint-Michel, and she was not sure if heading to the Rue Ferou and asking Musichetta about Marius would be the best idea. '_Which leaves the Place du Pantheon then,' _she thought. It was dangerous to be in this locale; not only was it open but it was a known meeting place of radical students. Eponine laughed at this very idea, for this was the very sort of thing that Victor would have suggested. '_If he was with me this would be easier,' _she realized as she emerged onto the Rue Saint-Dominique, which was not far from the Pantheon.

Even before she stepped into the square surrounding this grand edifice she could already hear the murmurs and shouts of the large group of students gathered near the Pantheon's entrance. She stood on tiptoe to get a better glimpse of a face, a mannerism, or just about anything that she could recognize in this crowd of tall hats and frock coats. She bit her lip as she caught sight of a young man clutching pamphlets while calmly explaining something to a group of dandies. '_Either he's very bold or very mad,' _she thought as she watched Enjolras climb onto the steps. Now and then she could not hear his voice thanks to the enthusiastic cheers from the crowd, but the intensity of his gaze and the force of his gestures were enough to bring the point across. There was none of the coldness he had shown her on the stairway or the reserve he had exhibited the previous day at the promenade. He was nothing less than fire that banished the winter's chill and perhaps even the lassitude that threatened to smother the city this winter.

She suddenly heard a step behind her followed by a cough. "This is a surprise, Eponine Thenardier," Bahorel greeted.

Eponine wheeled about to face him. Her jaw dropped when she saw that he had his arm in a sling. "What did those _cognes_ do to you?"

"A fine form of wrestling," Bahorel replied jovially. "I heard you and the Fabres were at the Rue Ferou yesterday morning."

Eponine nodded. "Your friend Mademoiselle Laurain is a lovely sort."

"A brilliant one," Bahorel said approvingly. "She means well."

'_But does not know what else has happened,' _Eponine thought. "Would you know where I can find Marius Pontmercy?"

Bahorel's eyebrows shot up. "You know him?"

"I have an errand for him," Eponine replied. This was as much as she could dare to reveal without betraying Cosette. "I need to know his address."

"I heard that he was living at the Rue Copeau but at this hour he might be with the publishers at the Place de la Sorbonne," Bahorel admitted. "You ought to ask his friend Courfeyrac to be more certain."

Eponine stood on tiptoe as the crowd let out one uproarious cheer at the end of Enjolras' speech. She sighed as she spotted Courfeyrac now in intense conversation with her neighbor and another young man with mousy brown hair and holding a couple of large tomes under his arm. '_They won't be done for a little while longer,' _she thought morosely before slinking away towards this neighbourhood, which fortunately was located only a few streets away.

When she arrived in the area of the university, she was just in time to see Marius emerging from a small shop. "Monsieur Pontmercy!' she shouted to him.

Marius nearly dropped the folios he was carrying. "Good afternoon Mademoiselle...Eponine, isn't it?" he managed to say after a moment as he clutched the papers to him with one arm.

Eponine swiftly brought the letter out of her pocket. "This is from my friend Cosette."

The young man's eyes lit up as he took the letter with his free hand. "I had worried I'd never be able to meet her again! How is she?"

"She is well, and wants you to write back soon, and to make your appearance when you can," Eponine said with a smile. "She thinks you're wonderful, M'sieur."

"And I think she's an angel," Marius said before reddening at this very demonstrative statement. "Where do I send the reply?"

Eponine took a deep breath. "She lives at the Rue Plumet. It's the only house on that street with any sort of life in it. You can't and shouldn't send a letter there though' you remember how her mama was."

Marius nodded shamefacedly. "I fear I might have caused her trouble. Would it be better if I gave _you_ the letters to pass to her?"

"She decided on that very thing, Monsieur," Eponine said. She bit her lip as she tried to think up a place and time to facilitate this letter exchange. "I go to the church of Saint Jacques-du-haut-Pas. Sometimes Cosette visits there too. I can pass there every day, at eight in the morning."

Marius smiled as he pocketed the letter. "If it's not too much trouble? Oh I wish I could see her right away!" He sighed wistfully before looking at Eponine more pityingly. "Thank you, Mademoiselle Eponine...is that all you are known as? Is there anything I can do for you?"

Eponine shook her head even as she saw Marius begin to search his pockets for some coins. The young man was in such a state that it almost felt like robbery to take anything from him, even if it was freely given. Besides, what good would his assistance be apart from guaranteeing a meal or two? "M'sieur, I do not want your money."

"Surely there must be something..."

"Let me think about it while you write your letter."

Marius nodded understandingly. "I am in your debt, Mademoiselle Eponine. Till tomorrow then!"

"Yes, tomorrow, M'sieur," Eponine said before making a clumsy curtsy and hurrying off. For no apparent reason she doubled back towards the Place du Pantheon, arriving now to a relatively quiet square. Much of the crowd had dispersed and returned to other activities, and only a few lingered in quiet conversation or plotting. Eponine sat on the steps to catch her breath and rest her tired feet. She realized after a few moments that Enjolras was also seated on the same step with a pamphlet on his lap but with his astute gaze seemingly trained on the square. He looked her way after a second, now suddenly aware that he was being watched. Eponine thought of making a cheeky or at least a friendly greeting, but the words seemingly died in her throat. '_How can I, when he already knows what I really am?' _she realized. It was impossible even for him to be completely oblivious to the goings-on in the room next to his. Perhaps he had also overheard how she and her father had argued about the impending engagement. He did not need to see her in her ragged attire to draw a conclusion.

"I s'pose you think it's funny I am here," she said at length.

"There is no impediment to your listening in," he replied.

Eponine looked down, knowing that he had also seen her earlier in the crowd. "It's not for me though."

"When there is no need for a king and the people are properly represented, there will be less privation and indignity," the student said firmly.

Eponine laughed sardonically. "You can't stop people from grabbing what they can when things get bad or even when they get better," she muttered. '_Like my father,' _she would have said, but there was no need to enunciate this dire thought hanging in the air. She drew up her knees to her chest, not caring that she would wrinkle the dresses she was carrying. "I told you we're quiet folk. I'm sure you don't think so anymore."

"The walls are thin," Enjolras remarked. He paused, perhaps to watch the square again or mull over something before he turned to look at her again. "How long has your family been staying there?"

"Less than a month," Eponine replied, straightening up from her hunched position so she could breathe more easily as well as meet his eyes. She had expected this question to be condescending, but there was a hint of curiosity in his tone that encouraged her to converse with him for a little longer. "By any chance you wouldn't happen to know that Monsieur Verdier that my father mentioned?"

He shook his head almost imperceptibly. "I have not made his acquaintance."

She swallowed hard, knowing it did not bode as well if the name was familiar to Montparnasse but unknown to a man of Enjolras' station. It was at least clear from his gravity that he was quite disapproving of the situation, perhaps even somewhat repulsed. "That Verdier is probably not such a grand one then," she thought aloud. She laughed as she caught sight of her companion's perplexed expression. "Papa used to know some of those officers and nobles, like a colonel he saved at Waterloo. He's a Bonapartist as you can tell. So is my mother, and me and my sister, I s'pose."

Enjolras smirked at these words. "Then hopefully nothing which was said earlier at the gathering inadvertently offended you, Citizenness."

"You ought to be a little more careful who you say such things to, M'sieur. It doesn't always sound polite, and you know what the police could very well think of it," Eponine chided him. She fell silent when she saw his eyebrows shoot up. "I shan't tell anyone though," she said more reassuringly.

Enjolras nodded in tacit understanding even as the bells from the nearby church of Saint-Etienne tolled the hour. "I will not keep you from your other errands then," he said as he got to his feet. "Good day to you, Citizenness."

"My family and I will all be away for the evening," Eponine said as she also stood up. "If you want to get into the tenement without being noticed, that is the hour for it," she explained.

"Very well then. Thank you for the advice," he said as a brief smile tugged at the corners of his full lips. They parted silently in the square, and Enjolras immediately went towards a group of students, where he was enthusiastically greeted by a younger man whose face was obscured by an extremely floppy hat. Eponine looked about to make sure that no one was observing them before slipping away in the general direction of the Boulevard de l'Hospital.

As she wandered towards the neighbourhood of the Austerlitz, she found herself laughing out loud. It would be impossible for her to set him up for an ambuscade, now that she had practically promised to keep him away from the police's attention. '_Maybe he's also keeping his mouth shut about us too,' _the thought occurred to her. It wasn't the best of ideas but it was pleasant in its own bizarre way.

She happened to pass by a cottage that she knew to be Mabeuf's lodgings, and here she slowed her steps to get a better look. Mabeuf had company over; how he managed to fit M. Fabre and Victor in that small space was a mystery to Eponine, but it did not seem that anyone was complaining. '_They are a fine family who visit the oddest people and never have a carriage of their own for it,' _she observed. Years ago she would have simply dismissed this as mere peculiarity, but now even this trait seemed to take on a more suspicious aspect. She shook her head as she walked off; perhaps she would ask Cosette about this if she did not have to worry about letters, mothers, or unwanted husbands.

It was mid-afternoon by the time Eponine decided to return to the Gorbeau tenement. By now the rest of her family was awake and making some attempt at their respective toilettes. "Papa says we should splash on some of this," Azelma said as she ran up to her sister and shoved a large bottle in her hands.

Eponine nearly gagged at the reek of cheap eau de toilette. "Come on, put on your dress. Cosette said you can keep the one you borrowed," she said.

"I'll wear that one then, and you can wear the green," Azelma said.

"I think I'll stick with the puce one, it looks better for a dinner party," Eponine reasoned. The green dress was a day dress, and she did not want to be seen wearing a casual item even to an odious gathering. She managed a smile at her mother, who was making some attempt at curling her hair with some old tongs. "That looks very nice, Maman."

Mme. Thenardier sighed at her. "If you arrived here earlier, I'd have time to curl your hair too. I have to see to Azelma's first."

Eponine shrugged as she set down the garments, taking care to discreetly hide the green day dress. She shook out the puce dress to check its fit as well as admire Fantine's handiwork in taking it in. Despite the fact that the gown felt passably becoming on her, she still felt ridiculous and was thankful at that moment for the absence of a proper looking glass. She thought of voicing out the idea of wearing her rags to dinner, but one look at her father's dark countenance made her hold her tongue.

At six in the evening the four Thenardiers boarded a fiacre and headed for the Rue Saint Sebastian, just south of the Faubourg du Temple. "It's possible one of the ladies living in these parts may have given up these gowns," Eponine muttered to her sister, taking care not to be heard through their father's attempts to cheer up their mother.

Azelma frowned and wrinkled her nose. "Must be an awfully _fat_ one then."

"Maybe. What else can live in these grand houses?" Eponine murmured. She felt her stomach lurch as the carriage came to a stop outside a house half-hidden by a high wall. She willed herself to keep her head low and remain impassive, for fear of being misconstrued as putting on a show of resistance to mask eagerness. She clenched her fist, willing for something like a knife perhaps to hold on to. The only thing there was Azelma's hand as they went into the house.

They went into the dim but tastefully decorated drawing room, where they were met by a tall man with brown hair that was shot through with silver strands. His waistcoat and coat were at the height of fashion, his cravat was tied daintily, but he wore breeches tucked into high boots. His face was long, giving him the impression of being horse-like. Nevertheless he bowed elegantly to his guests. "Good evening Monsieur Thenard. It is a pleasure to finally meet the rest of the family."

"They are more delighted to meet you, Monsieur Verdier," M. Thenardier said smoothly as he pushed his daughters forward. "My eldest daughter, Eponine, and her younger sister, Azelma."

"How charming," Verdier said before taking Eponine's hand to kiss it. It was all that Eponine could do not to shudder at the unwelcome warmth of his thin lips on her skin. Azelma blanched visibly at this sight, only to shiver noticeably when Verdier also kissed her hand. Eponine had to discreetly grab her sister's arm to steady her, more so when M. Thenardier laughed and made a remark about his daughters' show of modesty.

"You watch what you say during dinner," M. Thenardier warned her discreetly as they went into the dining room, with Mme. Thenardier on Verdier's arm. "He's a proper bourgeoisie."

Eponine bit her lip at this admonition, even as she recalled the young men she'd spoken to earlier that day. "He's not the only one," she hissed.

M. Thenardier sneered at her. "I have no use for dilettantes like that Montparnasse. Not for a Thenard."

"Thenardier," Eponine insisted. She always hated it whenever her father shortened their surname for 'respectability's sake'. Knowing this only intensified the taste of bile in her throat, which refused to go away even throughout their sumptuous dinner.

Towards the end of dinner, when Verdier called for a decanter of wine to be passed around, he eyed the two Thenardier girls keenly. "I am sure you two girls do not lack for suitors," he said amusedly. "Fortunately your parents are such good Christians and very careful that you will choose husbands wisely instead of leaning towards youthful folly."

"We try our best," Mme. Thenardier said stiffly.

M. Thenardier let out a loud belch. "So has either of them caught your eye, my friend?"

"They have been silent, so I know little of their characters," Verdier replied gamely.

"My elder daughter is clever from time to time. She helps me with my business," M. Thenardier said. "The younger is quieter, clever too but more keen to be with her mother."

"I see. That situation cannot last forever though," Verdier said.

"Certainly."

"And I'd hate to deprive you of your prop in your old age."

"You are too kind, Monsieur Verdier."

Verdier wiped his mouth before smiling at Azelma. "Mademoiselle, it must be you then. I would like nothing better than your hand in marriage."

Eponine had only a split second to catch her sister as she swayed and fell in a faint to the floor.


	15. Chapter 15

_A/N: Thanks to those who reviewed! Now for more drama_

**Chapter 15: The Agent**

As soon as the Thenardiers were back in the Gorbeau tenement, the former innkeeper pulled his elder daughter aside in the corridor. "Are you happy now?" he seethed as he gave her a sharp shake. "You're not going to marry that bourgeois, but what is he going to do with that sister of yours?"

Eponine bit her lip as she glanced towards their cell, where she could hear her mother trying to comfort a disconsolate Azelma. "He wouldn't have said so if you hadn't given him the push to it."

M. Thenardier glared at her before pushing her away. "If you hadn't been such a hussy and dragged your feet about maybe he would have thought you were a nice, proper girl." He threw an irritated glance at the door. "No matter, now you must help prepare Azelma to be a proper wife. That means you ought to be respectable: no talk of the theater or even going about with that hooligan Montparnasse. I don't want any mistakes there, my girl."

Eponine simply nodded before pushing her way into the cell. Azelma had her face buried in Mme. Thenardier's lap and was sobbing regardless of the woman's petting her hair and rubbing her back. Mme. Thenardier let out an exhausted sigh as she met her eldest child's eyes. "I'm sorry, my treasure."

"Maman, isn't there any other way?" Eponine whispered as she sat on the floor. She gripped her sister's shaking shoulders and looked at their mother's tired, pasty face. "Must we?"

Mme. Thenardier merely continued patting Azelma's back. "Darling, you know how your father is."

'_Is that how it's always going to be?' _Eponine wondered with dismay. She could still remember her mother from days gone by, that imposing and forceful woman who bustled about the inn. '_You used to shout then, you used to make people keep quiet so they'd listen,' _she thought. Inasmuch as her mother's coarse voice used to fill her with some fear, she would have given a great deal now to hear that same shrill pitch echoing throughout the garret.

Mme. Thenardier gently helped Azelma sit up. "You should go to bed now. I'll see if your father needs anything," she said before slowly getting to her feet and lumbering out of the room.

Eponine found a corner of the blanket to let Azelma wipe her face. "It'll come alright, Zelma."

Azelma shook her head. "How could you say that, Ponine?"

"I'll make sure of it," Eponine said defiantly. '_Verdier can't be the only answer to this trouble,' _she decided. She wasn't sure yet where to begin finding a way out, but she knew she would have to start soon. She let Azelma have the rest of the blanket as she padded back to their pallet, but instead of immediately joining her sister she sat by the hearth and threw some bits of paper into the hollow in hopes of making the best of a few embers there. She watched for a few minutes as the slightly damp scraps began to glow before she went over to the pallet and lay down to wait for sleep to overtake her.

When Eponine opened her eyes again, she immediately caught sight of sunlight seeping through holes in the garret. '_The letter for Cosette!' _she thought in a panic as she quickly got dressed, making sure this time to tie back her hair, wear the green day dress and even don her leaky shoes. All the while she listened with bated breath for the tolling of bells that would signal the hour, but hearing nothing, she tiptoed towards where Azelma still slept peacefully. '_At least she didn't give herself a fever from crying all night,' _she thought grimly.

Azelma stirred and yawned. "Ponine? Where are you going?"

"To give a message," Eponine whispered. "If Papa or Mama asks, say I've gone to Saint-Jacques to say my prayers and look for someone to send more notes to."

Azelma scowled at her. "You're lying again."

"Yes since I'm not stupid to be a truth-teller now," Eponine retorted before racing out the door and downstairs. She did not bother stopping by the cookhouse to look for anything to eat but instead ran as fast as she could to the church of Saint-Jacques-du-Haut-Pas. By the time she arrived in the churchyard she was quite out of breath and red in the face from cold and exertion, but it was just as well for the bells were tolling the hour as eight o'clock.

She had to tiptoe into the nave in an effort to deaden the squeaking from her shoes, but all the same she still had some churchgoers glaring in her general direction. At last she espied Marius standing at the door to one of the side chapels, looking around furtively as well. "Monsieur! Have you got it with you?" she whispered as she slipped over to him.

Marius started for a moment before realizing who was speaking to him. "I did," he said in a low voice as he brought a folded letter out of his coat. "I hope she doesn't think it's clumsy or that I'm a fool."

"She won't think that way. I s'pose she was nervous too when she wrote her letter," Eponine said as she pocketed the note. "Should I come here again at the same time tomorrow?"

"Will she write back so quickly?" Marius asked, almost unable to contain his excitement.

"I can wait most of the day," Eponine replied. "Anyway I'm sure that when I give her the letter she'll have something lovely to say, and then I'll have to tell you right away."

Marius nodded as he grinned from ear to ear. "I wish I could see her again. I do not feel I can sleep properly again till I can speak with her."

"Why don't you visit the Rue Plumet yourself then or arrange to meet her elsewhere?" Eponine asked. "She'd like that very much."

"She would but she said in her letter that her mother is on guard. Cosette can't even go out alone," Marius explained. "I wish it didn't have to be this way."

Eponine sighed understandingly before making a courteous curtsy. "I s'pose I should give this letter straightaway. Good morning, Monsieur," she said before hurrying to the rear of the church. As she dashed down the steps she caught sight of a woman gingerly carrying a large basket as she alighted from a fiacre. '_Why her, why now?' _Eponine thought as she tried to step into the shadows, but even then she knew she was too late for the woman had already seen her.

"Eponine, come here!" Fantine called to her. "I'm sorry I wasn't around when you came by for the dresses yesterday. Do they fit well?"

'_Too well,' _Eponine thought as she nodded. "Do I owe you anything for it?"

"As I said before, you don't owe anything," Fantine reassured her. She adjusted her grip on the basket. "I talked to Victor and he gave me your family's address. I'd like to call on your mother soon."

Eponine nearly recoiled at the idea of Fantine ever seeing the squalid Gorbeau hovel. "We don't have a proper room for calling," she said.

"Well then she can name a time and place she'd prefer," Fantine suggested kindly. "I know your mother has much to deal with, and I want to know if I can be of any help to her, in whatever way."

The girl looked down as an image of her mother's defeated face came to mind. She had no idea how her mother would react to Fantine's presence, but it was more likely better than letting her remain in the present situation. "I'll tell her when I return home."

"Thank you, Eponine," Fantine said. "And where are you off to?"

"Errands. I'll see you soon, Madame Fantine," Eponine said, reminded all too well of the weight of Marius' letter in her pocket. She dashed off to the entrance of the churchyard and glanced over her shoulder in time to see Fantine enter the building. As quietly as she could she made her way back and pressed herself into a shadowed nook, where she watched as Fantine handed over the basket of clothes to a tall lady standing by a larger pile of garments. The golden haired lady looked about for a moment before heading to one of the confessionals on the far side of the nave. '_Not much use waiting for her to come out of there,' _Eponine thought before quitting the church.

She ran as quickly as she could till she reached the neighbourhood of the Luxembourg, where she managed to sneak onto the back of a cart headed in the general direction of the Rue de Babylone. While she was here, she noticed a group of officers strolling down the street. '_What uniforms!' _she couldn't help thinking, at least till one particularly jovial looking lancer gave her an appreciative look that made her face feel warm. Nevertheless she willed herself to regain her composure before continuing on to the Rue Plumet.

Cosette was sitting out in the garden, seemingly watching the clouds. She jumped to her feet when she saw Eponine at the gate. "Ponine, what are you doing here?" she asked as she let her friend in.

Eponine smiled broadly as she brought the letter out of her pocket. "I saw him at the church of Saint Jacques," she announced. "He was delighted with your note."

Cosette let out a tiny little scream of joy before hugging Eponine enthusiastically. "I like him _twice _as much as I did yesterday!" she whispered as she opened the missive and pressed it to her chest. "Will he want me to write back right away?"

"Yes, but I s'pose he'd like to see you more," Eponine said.

Cosette nodded before reading the letter slowly, wiping away a happy tear when she was finished. "I will write back. I'm not losing a single moment," she decided. "Will you wait for it?"

"Have you got any other way?" Eponine quipped dryly as they went into the house and up to Cosette's room. "I saw your Maman a little while ago at the church."

"Yes, she went to bring clothes for the basket," Cosette said as she sat at her desk.

"And to go to confession," Eponine added. "Did she say where she'd go after?"

Cosette shrugged before dipping her pen in her inkwell. "She said she had to call on someone who had an important job for her," she said.

Eponine winced at how much this sounded like her father or Montparnasse talking. "She never said who it was?"

Cosette shook her head. "You know how Maman likes to keep to herself; she only ever talks to Grandfather and even then not about everything." She carefully wiped up a blot of ink that had strayed onto her desk. "Ponine, I wish I could tell her about him."

"Someday."

"And I'm sure that you and Zelma will also find wonderful men too. Are you sure no one fancies you already, Ponine?"

"Who would?" Eponine said tartly. She buried her face in her hands as she recalled what she would have to face once she returned to the Gorbeau hovel, and when she looked up she saw Cosette watching her concernedly. She sighed as she sat up straight and faced her friend. "I s'pose I should tell you. Azelma is getting married."

Cosette almost dropped her pen. "To who?"

"Monsieur Verdier. He's some old bourgeoisie my father met someplace. Says he's a trader, he has a big house and all he needs is a wife for it," Eponine said, feeling almost sick at this confession. "He's not an awful person, but that's not much to be thankful for."

"Azelma is still so young though," Cosette said with disbelief. "It's not the youngest I've _ever_ heard of, but I can't imagine her married just yet."

Eponine shook her head. "I don't want it to happen. Not to my sister."

"What are you going to do?"

"You know I'd do anything, Cosette."

Cosette was silent for a little while as she signed her letter and then blotted it. "Long ago, Grandfather was a mayor or someone important in the government. He may know a thing or two to help," she said. "We can go down and talk to him; he's in his rooms at the back."

"Your mother is visiting mine, or wants to soon. They can talk about it, and that may work a little better at first," Eponine said.

"I hope so," Cosette said with a wan smile as she sealed the letter and handed it to Eponine. "It may work if they're not in a hurry."

Eponine heaved a sigh as she pocketed the note. "You mustn't tell anyone yet, not even Victor. I know you promised not to keep secrets, but please, for me?"

Cosette looked down for a moment. "If Maman is to help, shouldn't she know?"

"I'll tell her," Eponine said. '_Hopefully I will have something better to mention then,' _she thought before turning the conversation to more pleasant topics. After a quarter of an hour she took her leave of the Rue Plumet, in order not to allow Fantine to catch her there. However since she was still not eager to return directly to the hovel, she made her way instead towards the Sorbonne. '_Why, I may catch that Monsieur Pontmercy there at work, and won't he be surprised to get a reply so early?' _she thought.

Her path took her past the Place de l'Odeon, where apparently a scene was taking place right at the steps of the theater. Courfeyrac, as well as two other young men, was collapsed on the pavement. All of them sported wounds on their heads and shoulders. Two other gentlemen were hurriedly tending to them with the assistance of a few of the bystanders. One of these helpful faces was none other than Musichetta. Eponine cringed at the sight of blood on the pavement but before she could turn away, she caught sight of a skinny figure in the crowd. "Victor! What are you doing here?" she called, grabbing this boy's arm when he happened to pass by her.

Victor thumbed his nose. "Taking in the air."

"Does your mother know you're here?" Eponine snapped.

"She won't know if you don't squawk," Victor said. He shook his head as he looked back at the scene. "It was supposed to be a duel. Courfeyrac was supposed to be a second and not doing anything, but that bugger there got him too."

"Good thing your sister isn't around to hear you say that," Eponine chided. "What was the duel about?"

"A skirt," Victor quipped before hurrying off to where one of the men was calling to him. After a few moments he whistled to Eponine. "We need your feet!"

"Oh what for?" Eponine asked as she hurried over. She realized that the two men assisting the wounded were not entirely unknown to her; one of them was Musichetta's sweetheart or close friend, the other had been speaking to Enjolras and Courfeyrac the previous day at the Place du Pantheon. "Should I get more bandages?"

"Yes. Go with Musichetta; we'll meet up at the Rue de Conde," the second of these men said in an undertone.

"What is your name Monsieur?" Eponine asked.

This man smiled embarrassedly. "I'm Combeferre. You must be Mademoiselle Fabre?" he asked, gesturing to Victor.

"Not me. Mademoiselle Fabre is my friend though," Eponine said quickly. After all it wasn't the first time that a complete stranger had pointed out how she and Victor resembled each other. '_I wonder if anyone really believes that he is Cosette's brother,' _she thought as she nodded to Musichetta and followed her to the fringe of the crowd in the general direction of the Rue Ferou.

Musichetta was silent till they were almost opposite the cul de sac of this street. "You little fool," she sighed as she looked at Eponine. "I warned you."

"You don't call away Victor and he's younger than me or my sister," Eponine retorted.

"He came to them," Musichetta said as she brought a passkey out of her coat. "Of course the boys try to shoo him away but I don't think anything short of tying him to the Pont au Change will do the trick."

Eponine snorted at this. "Don't they tell you to go too?"

"Yes, but I can't go too far away. Someone always needs my help after," Musichetta said as they walked to a nearby house. "I'll go upstairs and get what we need. Wait here," she instructed before heading into the building.

The younger girl sighed deeply as she leaned against the wall. '_Monsieur Pontmercy and Cosette will have to wait a little longer,' _she decided. Even if Marius could compose a reply quickly for Cosette, it would be impossible to carry the missive to the Rue Plumet without being discovered. '_May as well make the best of daylight,' _Eponine thought.

Musichetta soon returned carrying a large wrapped bundle and some bottles. "Hold this," she said, motioning for Eponine to take the bundle, which turned out to consist entirely of bandages. "If you're to come with me, you must remember that you can't breathe a word of this to anyone. Not even to your sister or to Cosette Fabre."

"I can keep a secret," Eponine replied firmly as they began walking. "So what's the name of the fellow you live with?"

"You can call him Joly," Musichetta said. "The other boys will draw his name out so that there are four L's to it, but you don't have to. You might also hear of Bossuet—yes, same sobriquet as the philosopher. He's off at Meaux today but you ought to meet him some time."

"Monsieur Joly and Monsieur Combeferre are doctors?" Eponine clarified.

"Almost," Musichetta said as they arrived back at the main road. "You'll find more law students in that group of theirs though."

"Such as Monsieur Courfeyrac and Monsieur Enjolras?"

"You know them too?"

"They're Victor's friends," Eponine said with a shrug. It was at least part of the truth.

Musichetta nodded understandingly. "They'll be your friends too if you don't watch yourself. Courfeyrac in particular is quite the charmer if you know what I mean."

"What about Monsieur Enjolras?" Eponine asked.

Musichetta snorted. "Don't bother. I've never seen him prefer anyone whether man, woman, or some other species."

'_Who says I'm curious about that?' _Eponine thought indignantly as they picked up the pace to hurry down the Rue de Conde. They entered a large house and headed up to the second storey to a large apartment. Musichetta knocked five times; thrice softly and twice more loudly before the door finally opened to reveal a slight young man who'd apparently thrown on a bulky light blue coat over a dark blue waistcoat and a pair of faded pantaloons.

"Musichetta, thank heavens," this young man greeted as he let the two girls into the apartment. "Joly was starting to wonder where you were..."

"Jehan, please remind him that unlike some people, I don't have four wings to my name," Musichetta said. She nodded to Eponine. "By the way this is Eponine Thenardier. Eponine, meet Jean Prouvaire."

'_Same as that boy from Notre Dame de Paris,' _Eponine couldn't help thinking, but she had the feeling that this particular Jehan was a more agreeable character than his literary counterpart. "Is Victor Fabre here too?" she asked.

"Combeferre sent him out to look for Enjolras," Prouvaire said. He glanced at the open door leading to the next room. "They said it was about a woman?"

"Apparently," Eponine said with a shrug as she went to this open door to give the bandages to the medical students. She felt her gut twist at the sight of Courfeyrac lying on a bed, already stripped of his shirt to allow Combeferre and Joly to stitch up the deep gash that ran from below his collarbone to over his ribs. Musichetta was folding up some of the bandages and sorting out the bottles she'd brought.

At that moment a single loud knock sounded on the apartment door. Eponine turned in time to see Prouvaire let in Enjolras and Victor. Both newcomers looked as if they had run a long way. "We came from the Sorbonne," Victor said breathlessly.

Eponine quickly stepped away from the door to allow Enjolras into the sickroom. The young man's eyes widened with surprise on seeing her, but he nodded by way of cordial acknowledgment before going to where Combeferre and Joly were still tending to Courfeyrac. Seeing that Musichetta was still busy nearby, Eponine went to where Prouvaire and Victor were looking through a cupboard. "I think I should tell Monsieur Pontmercy. I think he'd want to know," she said to them.

"We ran into him on the way here. He's stopping by an apothecary first, so we'll have him here in a minute or so," Victor said.

'_That saves me some trouble,' _Eponine thought, feeling once again the letter in her pocket. She heard footsteps again from the sickroom and she turned to see Enjolras there. "How is he?"

"He'll live," Enjolras said with a slight smile. "How did you come to be here, Citizenness?"

"I was passing through when Monsieur Combeferre asked for my help and told me to go with Musichetta," Eponine explained as she went to him. She bit her lip, wondering if he had overheard any of the recent arguments concerning her sister. "I left early for my errands today," she said at length.

"I heard before I left too," Enjolras said as he caught her gaze. "I take that dinner was eventful."

She snorted at this query. "What a way of putting it."

"It is the most circumspect description," he pointed out.

"Did my mother ever tell my father what she really thinks of it?"

"She did not say anything to that effect."

"I wish she would. Maybe Papa would think it all over again and decide that Azelma doesn't have to get married to that man," Eponine muttered bitterly. '_Then he'll come up with some other scheme or put Azelma with another man, or he'll decide that I have to marry...' _she realized. She pressed her back against the wall in a poor attempt to disguise the shudder that coursed through her being, but all the same she saw Enjolras watching her concernedly. "Never mind me, Monsieur. It was just a thought."

"I see," Enjolras said. His tone was serious when he spoke again. "If Citizen Verdier is made aware of the objections to this situation, the reconsideration might come from him."

"If only he was the sort of gentleman who'd ask about things, like you," Eponine mused aloud. Her eyes widened when she saw the quizzical look that spread over Enjolras' face at this remark. She could feel her cheeks growing warm as she averted her gaze. '_A gentleman who'd ask about, now there's an idea...' _she thought as she looked around the room and the people there, feeling that first rush of clarity from a plan taking shape in her mind.


End file.
